


Threefold

by Natarie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Danzou is always awful, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Humor, Non-Massacre AU, Sakura is a BAMF, Uchiha Bros Being Precious, Uchiha Mikoto raised her sons right, with issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natarie/pseuds/Natarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura wasn't thinking about what would happen in-between finding the rebels and taking Konoha back from Danzou. She didn't realize five months was plenty of time to develop conflicting feelings. ItaSakuSasu *non-Massacre AU of a sort</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welcome to another edition of "Ri had a dream and decided to adapt it into a fanfiction that goes above and beyond what was included in the original 8.5 hour sleep experience!"  
> I was going to sit on this one for a little while longer, but decided to upload the first chapter in celebration of finishing my first year of grad school. Yay! There are about 3.5 more chapters written, but don't let that stop you from constructive crit or proposing suggestions about where you think the story should go.
> 
> Warning: My interpretation of non-massacre Itachi is a nice guy. If your tastes run towards manipulative asshole Heathcliff vampire Itachi I would suggest you direct your attention elsewhere.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, just a very insistent subconscious.
> 
> Cross-post with [ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10331415/1/Threefold)

Sakura took a brief moment to wipe her forehead off with her left hand. The cut was minor, but she worried about the blood interfering with her vision. Growling softly under her breath she raised a fist, chakra coiling beneath her skin and ready to shield her knuckles from another super-powered punch. The nukenin before her smirked as if scenting weakness.

Life as a nukenin was a miserable, backbreaking and back _stabbing_  existence. In the past months she'd been viciously disabused of any notions she may have harbored about it being  _glamorous_  to go rogue.

There was nothing pleasant or enjoyable about huddling alone in the elements, so paranoid about possible attacks that she managed barely more than a few hours of fitful sleep a night. She went days without social interaction, distrustful of the few people she did see. Nervousness and loneliness had combined to make her a gaunt, washed-out version of her normal self, the ache so deep she felt it in her soul.

Without warning her body flowed from pause to strike in a second, her fist colliding solidly with a rib cage that exploded outwards, away from her hit and out of the body that contained it. But she was already turning, scanning the dark trees for the next threat.

Her "partner" for the mission had decided that calling in a few friends and collecting the bounty on her head would be better pay than finishing the job. It was not the first time, and she doubted it would be the last.

Clenching her teeth, she stalked forward, all lean grace and deadly intent. Nin like these were trash, nothing more than above average civilian thugs. She'd honed her standard combat into ruthless efficiency by dispatching them as quickly and with as little energy as possible.

A flash of movement out of the corner of her eye had her whirling, kunai already flying from her hand, only to watch in momentary surprise when it was deflected with an ease none of the nukenin should possess. There was a glimpse of red in the dark, features suddenly illuminated by the briefest glint of eerie blue-white light, and Sakura was flinging herself forward with a glad cry, forgetting instantly that there were at least two more of them somewhere out in the forest.

Sasuke wrapped her in his arms and, in a move more reminiscent of Naruto, lifted and spun her in two dizzy circles before putting her down and burying his nose in her hair. She made a sound half way between a hiccupped sob and a wordless exclamation, tightening her fingers in the back of his shirt hard enough she heard the seams protest.

"Sakura," he whispered, one hand brushing against her head.

Then, just as quickly as the reunion had occurred Sakura was pulling herself away to throw a kunai that met its intended mark buried up to the hilt in a nukenin's eye. She had another in hand ready to leap forward with a quick slash, when the last of the nukenin went down, his throat neatly slit from behind.

The joy Sakura had felt at finally,  _finally_  finding someone she cared about again was abruptly flushed straight from her body at the sight of the red eyes across the clearing. Without conscious thought she placed herself between Sasuke and the threat, crouched in a ready stance as her brain started considering battle plans for the fight ahead.

Sasuke placed a hand on her shoulder and the touch was so unexpected she nearly flinched.

"Sakura."

Should they flee? She didn't like their chances against him, not when considering Sasuke's feelings. He was too soft sometimes, his ties to  _this_  particular threat a definite weakness. Experience had taught her in the last months to trust no one, especially a traitor whose betrayal of the village had led to a disastrous fall from within.

"Sakura."

His voice was firmer this time and she wanted to growl at  _him_. What was he doing? Couldn't he see every second of hesitation cost them? He was the first sight of home she'd glimpsed in almost a year. She would knock him out and throw him over her shoulder to get away from this if she had to.

Sasuke made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and she would've laughed if the situation wasn't so dire; the familiarity of the noise was like being back in Team Seven again, like having a home.

"Sakura," he said, and this time he moved, purposely placing himself in front of her.

Sakura  _did_  growl at him, refusing to take her eyes from the enemy not twenty feet away.

"Sakura," and he had his hands on the sides of her face forcing her to look at him, so close that she could make out the annoyance on his features in the dim gloom of moonlight that filtered through the trees.

"My brother is  _not_  a threat."

"But he—" she attempted to tear her head away from him, but Sasuke clenched his fingers and wouldn't allow her to look away.

"No. There's a lot you haven't been aware of in the past year. Itachi didn't betray the village."

His eyes were the blood red of the Sharingan and she felt logic somewhere beneath her survival instincts clamoring for attention. Itachi may have been the better fighter, but his Sharingan was not strong enough to brainwash Sasuke, not without fundamentally damaging what he was and leaving him broken.

She did not trust Itachi, not without an explanation, but she would trust this boy who had been her teammate since the age of twelve with her life.

Sensing the mutinous agreement in her expression for what it was, Sasuke released her and looked at his brother, who nodded and let the red fade from his eyes.

"What's going on?" She kept her eyes on Itachi, hands twitching restlessly with the adrenaline and promise of more violence.

"Not here," Sasuke shook his head, giving his brother another of those silent speaking looks.

"It will be more difficult with three people, but I can do it." Itachi spoke for the first time, cool eyes locked with hers. "But she will need to touch me."

Sasuke took one look at the twist of her mouth and sighed, stepping forward into her line of sight again.

"We'll do it like this," and he wrapped his arms around her.

Sakura tensed when another set of arms reached around Sasuke's body, hands clasping firmly around the part of her arm between shoulder and elbow, which would allow her the most mobility to control her arms should she feel threatened.

Then there was the familiar lurch of a long-distance teleportation jutsu and they reappeared in the center of a small living room.

Instantly she bristled, trying to pull away and fight, but Sasuke wouldn't let her go. Itachi stepped back and she could see him over Sasuke's shoulder, watching her with no visual expression she could read.

"Sakura," Sasuke chided, and she could hear the exasperation in his voice. "I haven't seen you in a year and I thought you were dead. Can you forget about my brother for a second?"

She continued glaring, but Itachi raised a single eyebrow at her and slipped out of the room.

Hesitantly, she raised her arms to wrap them around Sasuke again, allowing herself to close her eyes and enjoy the solid warmth of his body, the way he carefully smoothed a hand over her hair.

Sasuke was not usually a demonstrably affectionate person. He'd told her once, while bleeding from his gut and high on pain medication, that she had the loveliest, softest hair and he just wanted to stroke it sometimes, but the times he'd indulged that whim had been few.

If Itachi hadn't murdered them earlier he probably wasn't going to do it while Sasuke pet her. Feeling months' worth of tension suddenly eased from her shoulders, Sakura released the battle adrenaline, the anxiety and fear in one drawn out sigh. In response, Sasuke's arms tightened and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

They stood like that for what felt like hours before Sasuke finally released her, taking her hand and urging her to sit down on the couch before retreating into the attached kitchen and returning with a glass of water.

"Now," Sakura blinked at the sound of his raised voice, but it was apparently some sort of signal because Itachi appeared in the next moment and took the armchair furthest from where she sat on the end of the couch.

Sasuke sat down next to her and seeing her suddenly clenched fist gently eased her fingers open and threaded them with his own. Her other hand was occupied with the water glass and she silently cursed him for knowing her too well.

"We should talk."

"Yes," she growled, eyes on Itachi, "we should."

The elder Uchiha inclined his head, briefly glancing at Sasuke before opening his mouth.

"There were… emergency contingency plans in place before Pein's attack. I was out of the village under command of the Hokage Sannin Tsunade-sama in pursuit of information on the Akatsuki and did not make it back to the village in time for anything but the reconstruction."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. His absence then had been one of the first reasons to place the blame at his feet, once the dust had settled.

"It seems, in our quest to understand our enemies, we neglected to search closer to home. The attack by Pein was partially orchestrated by one Shimura Danzou, who supplied the information on when to strike."

Sakura bared her teeth at the mention of that hated name, squeezing Sasuke's hand in her anger.

"I figured that much out for myself already," she hissed. "Telling me things I already know and making excuses doesn't prove you're innocent!"

"Sakura," Sasuke said, eyes boring into her own. "Itachi wasn't in the village at the time of the massacre."

She looked at her teammate, really looked at him.

Beneath Sasuke's patience with her, his relief at having found her again was the same festering wound she felt beating in her own chest. She had lost friends and comrades in Danzou's takeover, might have even lost her parents. But he had lost his family before the fighting had even started, before anyone had known what was going on.

Eyes like ice, she glared at Itachi to continue.

"Danzou is head of a special branch of ANBU known as Root. On paper they are the ones who commit the acts even regular ANBU is spared, sent into battle without identity or identification to Konoha should they be caught. In reality they are little more than brainwashed puppets, conditioned to follow Danzou's orders to the death.

"De-stabilized, Tsunade-sama in a coma, Konoha was ripe for his machinations, especially with the acting-Hokage and many of Konoha's strongest and most loyal shinobi attending the Kage summit."

Yes, Sakura remembered. Kakashi-sensei had been spared simply because he'd finally bowed to peer pressure to assume the hat. She intended to ask Sasuke where he was once this conversation was over.

"One major problem was the clans, who together represent one of the most organized military forces of the village. And Danzou, in all his practical efficiency, started with the largest."

For once, hints of something had leaked into Itachi's normally detached voice. He was no longer looking at her, instead staring off into space with an intensity that surprised her coming from such a taciturn man.

"Root is a fraction of the Uchiha clan's size. To declare outright war on Konoha's military police would have been suicide."

Sasuke's hand clenched tightly around hers and she glanced at his face, shocked at the sight of his Sharingan, apparently switched on by the force of his emotions.

"So he killed them in their beds," her teammate growled.

"How convenient for Danzou," Itachi said, and a sudden shiver worked its way down her spine at his words "that I, and many of the other ANBU members cautioned to distrust our own sub-cell were absent from the village pursuing the remaining threats to Konoha. How convenient that the village's chain of command was focused on that threat and the potential political ramifications of the summit.

"How inconvenient," he continued, voice soft and measured, "that Danzou has never been particularly skilled in cleaning up his loose ends."

"Shisui sensed the attack," Sasuke said, voice unsteady and rough with violence where his brother's was like the sleek steel of the trap yet to spring.

"He was coming back from a mission and managed to wake some of the clan and the surrounding neighborhood from the blanket genjutsu. The remaining members of the clan on patrol throughout the village answered the call. He would've made it quite clear that Itachi wasn't the killer, but in the confusion Danzou had him kidnapped."

Sakura hadn't known that. Sasuke and Naruto had both gone with Kakashi to the summit. She'd wanted to be there, but with Tsunade-shishou in a coma, there had been only she and Shizune to maintain the hospital in the wake of the village's largest ever attack, especially for the scattered teams on missions rushing back to Konoha at the news even at risk to life and limb.

She'd been woken at three in the morning and told there had been another attack, this time to the Uchiha clan, and her heart had shuddered in her chest for a moment before she realized that  _her_  particular Uchiha was safe.

Then she'd been up to her elbows in blood. By the time the rumor had reached her that  _Itachi_  had perpetrated the attack, she'd been at the hospital for twelve hours and admittedly not in her right mind, certainly unable to confirm the rumor for herself.

The Uchiha who survived were confused, disoriented and unable to recall anything but dark shapes and the suggestion of blood red eyes. Now, with the buffer of time, distance, and one of her best friends between her and then it was easy to admit that even a genin could summon a convincing henge for red eyes, especially if their victims were addled by a large-scale genjutsu. But at the time without Itachi there to defend his honor and the main command of the clan all dead the rumor had been an insidious seed, poisoning the minds of villagers already wounded and suspicious following Pein's attack.

She'd gone home anxious, two-thirds of the Uchiha clan dead in one night, gave herself to unpleasant dreams, and dragged her ass to the hospital six hours later convinced everything was one unending nightmare.

A bleeding Hyuuga had stumbled into the hospital five minutes into her shift and announced that the compound was under attack by ANBU. Before anyone could react one of her nurses, slightly plump and with the voice of an angel, had stabbed another in the throat and lunged towards the injured man.

Sakura had killed her without a second thought, wondering what in the hells was going on. Then faceless masked nin had poured into the doors and all thinking had stopped. There were too many of them, all focusing on her, and she'd fled. But the madness extended to the streets, Konoha shinobi fighting Konoha shinobi in a confused tangle that defied all attempts to be understood.

Desperate, befuddled, up against a threat she could neither identify nor quantify, Sakura had fled with the thought that  _somewhere_  her team was out there and if she could just find them everything would make sense again.

She stared at the Uchiha brothers, the pain and rage in both of them expressed in two different ways.

"Is he ok…?"

Itachi's eyes flicked to hers, as if he'd forgotten she was even there. A small, humorless smirk turned one corner of his mouth up.

"Shisui has always shown a strong…  _dislike_  of holding still."

"He's with the rebel forces," Sasuke cleared up, shakily running his free hand through his hair.

"Who else…" She couldn't finish the sentence. Who else had made it out? Who hadn't? Through her head floated the images of the people she'd missed, the ones she hadn't been able to go back for and had spent the many months mourning, as if she'd caused their deaths herself.

"Sakura," Sasuke said, drawing her attention back to him. "Tsunade's alive."

"How…?" Unbidden, a single tear slid down her cheek.

"Apparently," he smirked, "those seal arrays you medics use for focused healing can be turned to other purposes. At least twelve medics at the hospital helped barricade Shizune inside so she could transport the Hokage away, then destroyed the seals so Root couldn't track them.

"She woke up six months ago in a spectacular temper."

She gave a shaky laugh and blinked away the lingering moisture.

"Hyuuga Neji and Hyuuga Hiashi are unaccounted for," Itachi spoke up. "They and the remaining members of their clan are under house arrest, but we have no inside information as to whether they survived or not."

"Akimichi Chouza and Inuzuka Tsume are dead. Inuzuka Hana may still be alive, but we don't know for sure. Umino Iruka and Mitarashi Anko died in the coup as well." He continued listing several people she knew and many she didn't, until Sakura felt as wrung out as an old sponge.

"And how many are stuck in Konoha?"

"Too many," Itachi said.

"Ino's being held ransom," Sasuke said, almost apologetically. Sakura could do nothing but sigh. Being held ransom was better than dead, but her heart went out to her best friend in captivity under Danzou's rein.

"My…parents?"

Sasuke looked at her, but shook his head. "Smuggled out, the first chance we had when we realized Danzou didn't have you. They're in Wave."

She shook with the sudden relief she felt, but forced herself to ask the next question.

"And the resistance?"

"Naruto is leading it in Tsunade's name," Sasuke replied, "We have more people than you would think, precisely because Danzou chose to attack when some of Konoha's strongest were absent."

"How unlucky for him," Itachi murmured, rising from his seat and moving to the kitchen to retrieve his own glass of water.

"If Naruto's leading the resistance what are the two of you doing here?"

"Looking for people like you," Sasuke squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. "We've been locating stragglers and trying to gather information. We also take on missions to funnel some money back to the resistance."

"Isn't it suspicious, having two very prominent Uchiha wandering around?" she asked skeptically.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Is it suspicious having two members of a clan renowned for their mastery of genjustu paired together on intel missions?" He reached forward with his free hand to lift a strand of black hair away from her face.

Sakura looked at him, from the hand clutching her hair to the one entwined with hers. He'd been… touchy, almost clingy since they'd reunited. Talkative too, especially his brother, who she'd probably heard speak five words total before this moment. Biting her lower lip, she met his eyes.

"Did you and Naruto really think I was dead?"

He didn't say anything, releasing her hair and pausing to consider their clasped hands.

"A year is a long time, Sakura."

Yes, she knew. A year of being alone, nursing the dwindling hope that her friends and family were out there somewhere and looking for her, not dead and dumped into an unmarked grave or burned by that filthy traitor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I tried looking, but-" the tears were uncomfortably close to the surface and she didn't resist when Sasuke drew her into a hug, needing the physical comfort as much as he apparently did.

"A lot of us were already out when it happened. We rallied quickly before Danzou could pick us off, aided by those with knowledge of how he operates. You hid a little too well, even from us."

She shook her head lightly, thinking of the hunter squads of what she'd thought were ANBU. It relieved her now to know that they were fighting automatons, not the full Konoha shinobi she thought she'd killed.

There had been too many times she'd sat bleeding in caves or hollow logs, knowing that she didn't have enough chakra to continue fighting and that if they found her again it would be over. But she couldn't tell Sasuke that, not after she'd finally found him. He would only worry unnecessarily about something that couldn't be changed.

"But I'm here now," she whispered, and Sasuke drew back to look in her face.

"Yes," he said, the warm little smile she so rarely saw on his mouth. Glancing to the side she could see Itachi observing them from the kitchen, the quirk of his lips indicating a similar expression on his face.

With a sigh she leaned back into the comfort of her teammate, pressing her face into the hollow of Sasuke's neck and urging herself to calm down, to let go of the panicked feeling she'd struggled with for too long. It was extremely rare for Sasuke to offer support like this and she intended to take advantage and soak up as much of the human warmth that had been missing from her life as she possibly could.

Sasuke didn't say anything, moving to calmly stroke her hair again. Exhaustion and relief warred within her and exhaustion won. She was nearly asleep when Sasuke pulled away, brushing the hair from her face.

She blinked up at him when he frowned and brushed gently at something on her forehead, and she remembered the small cut she'd received earlier, what seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"Do you want to take a bath?"

Fuzzily, she considered his words, realizing with some surprise that she'd actually forgotten just how much she  _did_  want to get clean somewhere that wasn't a freezing probably unhygienic stream or an equally freezing and unhygienic roach motel bathroom.

But she was so tired she felt it in her bones and the thought of having to lift her arms up long enough to wash her hair was unappealing. Shaking her head she reached up and wiped the dried blood away with the back of her hand, revealing that the cut was already healed and gone.

"I just want to sleep," she sighed, wanting nothing more than to sink into the couch cushions and close her eyes.

"Alright, let me get you a pillow and some sheets."

Sakura nodded, not quite hearing what he said. She was asleep before he returned and didn't notice when he rearranged her more comfortably across the couch, tucking the blanket around her and very carefully sliding a pillow beneath her head.


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, I did _not_ mean to take over a year to update this. I've been pretty busy this past year and my free time has been equally full of distractions (pro tip: don't get into an entirely new fandom when you don't actually have the free time for it).
> 
> Thanks for the reviews to those of you who've left them! Hopefully you're still reading.

She awoke to sunlight and the smell of frying bacon. 

“I’m in heaven,” she mumbled, snuggling down and burying her nose deeper into the pillow.

There was a familiar snort from somewhere outside her cushy dreamland. Raising her head she found Sasuke watching her from the kitchen, spatula in one hand.

“Must be heaven,” she replied, “your cooking never smelled this good.”

Sasuke scoffed again.

“Trust me, living with Itachi could create miracles in anyone.”

As if on cue, Sakura suddenly recognized the low hum of one of her favorite electrical appliances, perking up and turning in the direction of the doorway Itachi had escaped through the night before.

“Kami forbid he not be able to do his hair.” Sasuke responded to the unasked question, and she found herself staring at him in surprised disbelief.

“I’ve learned more about your brother in the past couple of hours than I have in all the years I’ve known him.”

“One hesitates to ask what conclusions you’ve drawn from your observations up until now.”

Itachi appeared in the doorway tugging a comb through his unbound hair. Sakura felt her mouth go dry.

“We’re out of eggs,” Sasuke said, ignoring his brother with the ease of long practice. 

Though he denied it, anyone with half a brain cell could tell that Sasuke had a brother complex a mile wide. He’d confided once that he didn’t think his brother was completely human and Sakura had to agree. _Her_ hair certainly didn’t look that good right after blow-drying it. Actually, there was something just a little too perfect about their entire clan. Nobody should be able to achieve such flawless hair without several hours of fussing and fighting with styling products.

“The shower’s free,” Itachi murmured, glancing at her as he moved past the couch and into the kitchen.

Sakura was instantly reminded that she was bloody and probably smelled and had gone to sleep lying in her own filth in the same house as the Perfect Heir (Hair) Brothers. Damn, she was going to develop a complex too.

Rising, she started checking around the couch for the small pouch she kept clipped to her belt. Someone—probably Sasuke—had set it neatly by the foot of the couch within easy reach, and she untangled herself slowly from her blanket cocoon with visions of blissfully steaming water floating through her head. 

Pouch in hand, Sakura made to retreat down the single mysterious hallway when her stomach rumbled.

Sasuke placed a large plate overflowing with eggs and bacon on the countertop and glared at her.

“Eat.” As if to prove a point, he put a glass of milk and one of orange juice next to the plate as well.

Itachi was hovering in the back of the small kitchen and attempting to hide his amusement in his orange juice glass.

Huffily, Sakura moved towards the plate and reached for the fork. Then the smell of the steam wafting from the food hit her full in the face and it was like someone had flipped some hidden switch in her brain. Sakura would later swear that she didn’t know what happened, but in a matter of seconds the food was gone and she was cradling a half-empty glass of milk and blinking as her vision cleared.

Both Uchiha were staring at her as if they couldn’t believe their famed eyes. Sasuke had one arm extended towards the fridge, milk carton in the other. Itachi’s juice glass was suspended two inches from his mouth. Sakura coughed slightly in embarrassment, set the glass of milk down, and burped.

Sasuke dropped the carton and turned away, shoulders shaking in silent mirth. Itachi’s eyebrows constricted and the corners of his mouth twitched up, then down as if fighting the urge to smile. It was his expression that did her in. Sasuke would laugh, _really_ laugh if he was caught off guard, though his natural Uchiha-ness led him to try and hide the action. Itachi looked as if he wanted to laugh, but after years of suppressing the feeling he found his facial features unable to create the appropriate motions.

Slumping over the countertop, Sakura felt tears of mirth leak from her eyes as she gasped in laughter.

Some time later once she and Sasuke had recovered themselves and Itachi’s facial features had been rearranged back into orderly lines, Sakura slipped into the bathroom and sighed in bliss.

Though the house was small, the bathroom boasted an actual tub instead of a cramped shower cubicle. Practically skipping, Sakura cranked the hot water on full blast and started rummaging around in her little pouch. 

Carrying an actual pack was the most inconvenient thing in the entire world. As a nukenin her pack had been destroyed, stolen, set on fire, waterlogged beyond recognition, and simply lost. It was impossible to get anything out of it in the heat of battle and the one time she’d tried she’d ended up flinging dirty clothing at an enemy nin just to buy herself enough time to find her actual kunai.

Retrieving the slim storage scroll that contained all of the items she didn’t carry on her person at all times, Sakura spread it on the floor and activated the seals, focusing her mind on exactly which items she wanted.

In a flash she had a new change of clothes, a towel, her hairbrush, bottles of bathing supplies and a small container of actual _scented_ bubble bath. Discretely checking under the sink, she found Itachi’s blow dryer and smiled to herself. Then she leaned into the mirror and checked her roots.

Satisfied that she had at least another couple of days before she started thinking about a touch up, Sakura shed her clothes and dripped some bubble bath in the water, watching happily as bubbles started to froth. Idly, she checked the contents of the bottles sitting on the small shelf built into the shower wall. To her amusement, she realized that Sasuke and Itachi apparently shared a bottle of men’s two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. She was tempted to use it just in case their hair care products were magical, but decided that three people using the same shampoo was just a little too weird for her.

Sakura was piling bubbles on her chest and trying to make her “boobs” bigger than Tsunade’s when someone knocked on the door. Guiltily, she dropped the bubbles she’d gathered on her head, which she hoped was less incriminating should whichever of them was outside be able to see through the door.

“I’m going to the market,” Sasuke’s voice said. “Don’t drown yourself in there. Itachi is outside if you want him. Do you need anything?”

“Pocky!” She said, smirking. “And strawberries!”

There was a pause.

“Should I get you champagne too, and one of those books with a half-dressed pirate woman on the front?”

She laughed and blew some bubbles at the door, though he couldn’t see her do it.

“Lots of fruits and vegetables,” she said. “Maybe some of those vitamin-boosted electrolyte drinks.”

“Anything else?”

“I was serious about that pocky. Chocolate—I don’t like the strawberry kind.”

There was the sound of a clearly audible snort.

“Alright. Itachi says that he’s checking the traps and not to leave the house until he’s shown you where they are.” 

Then it was just her and the bubbles. Sakura smiled and started piling suds onto her head.

After the bubbles were all gone she scrubbed until her skin was pink and shiny, borrowing Itachi’s blow dryer and painting a new coat of clear protective polish on all her nails. Sakura emerged from the bathroom feeling clean and beautiful for once in a very long time.

Itachi was sitting in the living room waiting for her, sharpening a small pile of shuriken and kunai.

“Is this the part where you threaten me and ask me what my intentions towards your brother are?’ 

He paused, glancing up from his whetstone.

“I was under the impression that you intend to drive my brother crazy as frequently as possible. Was that incorrect?”

For lack of anything better to do with it, Sakura tucked her small pack next to the couch again. Someone had already folded her blanket from the night before and set it on the back of the couch with the borrowed pillow.

“Your words, or his?”

“His.”

Sakura processed that, staring at the man across from her.

“Does Sasuke tell you… a lot?”

“I am sworn to the utmost secrecy,” Itachi said solemnly.

She goggled for just a moment, before she had the sudden realization that Itachi was _teasing_ her.

“There is a certain ‘fish lips’ incident that I have been told to never mention again.”

“We don’t talk about Operation Fish Lips,” Sakura responded immediately, and then stood up straighter. “You _do not_ know about Operation Fish Lips!”

Itachi smirked. “I am the soul of discretion.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. Either he meant that literally, or he meant ‘sole’ like the fish… Slowly, she made her way around the couch and sat down.

“If Sasuke told you about Operation Fish Lips I’m going to kill him,” she declared, not even trying to hide the mortified blush.

Every time Team Seven got it in their collective heads to attempt to see underneath Kakashi’s mask they made a new Operation and named it after one of his potential distinguishing facial features. They’d never had an Operation that _wasn’t_ a miserable failure, but the most miserable and embarrassing of all were sworn into SSS-Class friendship secrecy on pain of Ultimate Friendship Punishment, whatever that was.

Sakura herself may or may not have been guilty of telling Ino about Operation Fish Lips, but since that particular Operation had involved all three team members sneaking into the male side of the Konoha public baths, she couldn’t in good conscience have kept that from her best girl friend and then been subjected to Ino’s particular Ultimate Friendship Punishment. If Naruto had something in mind worse than being forced to wear scandalous clothing and go on an awkward double date, she would gladly get down on hands and knees and beg forgiveness.

“Many of my suggestions for future operations have regrettably been turned down.”

She raised an eyebrow at this unexpected statement, prompting him wordlessly to continue. 

“Sedatives.”

“We tried that one—Operation Cleft Lip.”

“His hospital stays.”

“Tsunade-shishou got mad,” she pouted at the memory. The paperwork had been worth it when she saw the D-rank missions Naruto and Sasuke had been assigned.

“Stealing his masks.”

She frowned. “We think he keeps a storage scroll of them somewhere on his person.” Explaining why they were in his apartment and why all of his stuff was out of place had been interesting and had led to the excuse that they wanted to surprise him with a clean apartment that they’d then had to actually follow up on.

“Concussion.”

Sakura sighed sadly. That had been her favorite suggestion. “He dodges everything with deadly force behind it. One time he tripped on an apple, but that was an accident and all he did was bang his head.”

“His bets with Maito Gai.”

Ready to reject his suggestion, Sakura froze with the words on her tongue. They _hadn’t_ actually tried that one. Kakashi-sensei and Gai-sensei got so carried away with their stupid bets they were liable to do just about anything to one-up each other. It was ludicrous that Kakashi refused to let anyone see his face but was willing to run one hundred laps around the village on his hands.

Just then Sasuke walked into the room, two large brown paper bags balanced in his arms. He shot them both a suspicious look as he moved to place the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“Sasuke, I am happy you have been listening to my advice, though it sounds as if the implementation of your plans could use greater finesse.”

“Sasuke!” She shot to her feet and rounded on him, reminded of what had prompted her conversation with Itachi in the first place.

“You told your brother about Operation Fish Lips!” 

Most likely the part where she’d had to Sexy-no-jutsu into a man and walk through a men’s bath with her chest bare feeling exposed the whole time. The amount of embarrassment she felt to this day at remembering the way eyes had widened and blood had started dripping from noses of men unable to resist the allure of Naruto’s pervert jutsu even from one of their own gender was the stuff of nightmares, _and his brother knew about it_.

“I’m going to tell on you to Naruto and then I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Please don’t threaten me in front of my brother,” Sasuke frowned.

Curious, Sakura glanced at Itachi and found him completely unconcerned by her words. In fact, he’d gone back to sharpening his weapons.

Sasuke sighed and reached into one of the bags, tossing the item he retrieved straight at her head. Snatching the projectile out of the air, Sakura gaped in surprise.

Pocky! Two fresh, whole packages of deliciously sweet processed sugar! The one dietary indulgence she’d most missed in her dirty, malnourished nukenin state. 

“Alright,” she declared imperiously, already tearing open one box. “I shall spare your life this once.”

“Thank you, Sakura-sama,” Sasuke drawled, stacking a cluster of bananas and a container of strawberries around the apples in the fruit bowl on the countertop. 

Sneaking a glimpse of Itachi’s face she saw him smirking. To someone else, the sight of a well-known and deadly shinobi smirking and sharpening weapons would have been bone chilling. Sakura smiled broadly and concentrated on _not_ shoving all the pocky in her mouth at once like she had with her breakfast.

The battle was grueling and intense, but Sakura had restrained herself to eating only half of the first box by the time Sasuke finished putting away the groceries. Apparently the brothers traded off cooking duties, because Itachi put down the kunai he was sharpening to a fine point and slipped behind his brother into the kitchen.

Sasuke gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was trying not to do, sitting in the armchair Itachi had vacated and reaching for the abandoned whetstone. He ignored her watching him trade his brother for chores, methodically dragging the whetstone along the edges of the blade.

He only stopped when Itachi handed him a plate. Lunch, Sakura realized, accepting the sandwich she was offered with a murmured word of thanks. 

There was a fat piece of ham, some cheese, several slices of cucumber, and some juicy slices of tomato wedged between two pieces of perfectly grilled bread. The cheese was even melted. Sakura wondered if the brothers were doing this to her on purpose as she felt her mouth start to water.

Beside her Itachi was eating his sandwich with exquisite grace, somehow managing not to spray crumbs everywhere with each bite. Sasuke—who had extra tomatoes and no cucumbers she noted with amusement—was also demonstrating the fine eating skills one could seemingly only acquire in a clan. Sighing, Sakura gave up on decorum and took the smallest bite possible, eyes crossing at the discovery that she could barely open her mouth wide enough to eat the sandwich. 

Lunch was silent, but not uncomfortable. After she finished she wasn’t asked to help clean up and Sasuke handed her a glass of water without a word. They were both babying her, she realized, but since she probably needed it and wasn’t going to get her way even if she argued she decided not to say anything just yet. 

Instead she watched the way they moved around her with the same ease of teammates breaking up camp on a mission. Itachi put away the fixings for lunch and was there the moment Sasuke finished washing the frying pan, dishtowel in hand.

Frankly, to Sakura a domesticated Sasuke was a laughable notion. Sasuke, who’d been banned from spit-roasting fish after turning dinner into charcoal too many times, who somehow managed to shed like a cat all over her white medic’s apron. That Sasuke could not cook, or clean, or grocery shop to save his ass. Though from his comment that morning she wondered if the sudden display of these skills spawned from long cohabitation with his brother.

The elder Uchiha was a mystery to her. They’d exchanged maybe a handful of words in the length of their acquaintance, most of those impersonal greetings. He drifted in and out of the main clan household the way he slipped through the cracks of village life. Quite simply, Itachi was a busy person and was away on ANBU missions roughly eighty percent of the time. The last twenty percent was divided between training and who knew what.

In battle she knew him mostly by reputation. She’d seen him train with Sasuke several times and had seen him in the field maybe twice, most recently when his team had rendezvoused with hers during the mission to save Gaara. Having little grasp of his personality or any of his combat skills other than “coldly professional” and “crazy strong,” it was little surprise that she’d believed him capable of murder while under the influence of high stress and less than the daily-recommended amount of sleep. In the situation following Pein’s attack it was easy for people to believe that the dispassionate Uchiha heir had snapped, especially when other Uchiha who held him in just as much combined fear and awe had corroborated the story.

This Itachi, displaying surprising warmth and an even more surprising sense of humor was a completely different being from the Itachi whose reputation preceded him. Perhaps he was humoring her, likely knowing that after her experience the last thing she needed was to be alienated and ignored. Sakura had had quite enough of being treated like a pariah and a criminal when she was a nukenin.

“Sakura,” Sasuke said, rubbing his hands with a dishtowel. Her head snapped up; she’d almost descended into bitter memories she was trying her best to avoid.

“I’m going out to train, do you want to come?”

Go outside…? When Sasuke had told her earlier that Itachi was outside she’d ignored the inherent offer. Experience had taught her that outside was dangerous. Far better to bunk down somewhere safe and wait for potential threats to pass by unaware.

It was irrational she knew, but she wanted to stay inside, take a day off. Shinobi were allowed to take a day off, weren’t they? Especially after the year she’d just had. She was owed a day off—a day where she could be normal Sakura complete with banter and threats of violence and bubble baths and sugary goodness. Going outside meant turning back into mangy, rabid dog Sakura.

“Uh, no thanks,” she laughed awkwardly, trying to downplay her sudden discomfort. “I’m still pretty tired. I think it would be better if I stayed inside and rested.”

Sasuke’s eyes were sharp, but he didn’t say anything of what he was actually thinking, instead trading one of those silent glances with his brother.

“Are you sure? Itachi has to meet a contact and I’m going fishing for dinner afterwards. If you don’t leave with one of us you’ll be stuck here or you might risk activating one of the traps.”

She nodded, hoping Sasuke would get the hint and drop the subject. “I’m sure. I really just want to-“ to be safe, sane, Sakura- “to rest for a while.”

After a moment Sasuke inclined his head and she watched both brothers walk out of the room. A few minutes later she heard the front door open and close and then she released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

With both of them gone, Sakura reached for the storage scroll in her pouch. A moment of concentration later and she held a ratty book, its spine well-creased and a large water stain wrinkling the pages. Knowing that Sasuke would roll his eyes at her reading material didn’t stop her from curling up on the couch with the book in hand.

It was a comfort read, one Ino had introduced to her, that she’d snagged by pure chance when passing through a larger town. While Sakura normally balked at stealing non-essential items, the familiar cover had called to her and she’d palmed the small paperback without a second thought.

Supposedly set in the warring-clans period of shinobi history, it had just enough historical accuracy to suspend disbelief and made up for any other deficiencies with an intriguing plot and sex. Flipping to a dog-earned page, Sakura willed herself to forget everything but the drama of fictional people and their fictional problems.

She awoke to a rustle of cloth and blinked up at the sight of Itachi, poised to drape a blanket over her.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured in a voice that sounded like silk.

Sakura blinked again, sure that she was dreaming. Handsome Uchiha men cooking for her and putting her to bed certainly didn’t _seem_ like reality. Oh, but Itachi was still wearing a shirt. Too bad, she thought sleepily.

“’M awake,” she insisted as he started tucking the edges of the blanket around her body.

“Rest. Sasuke or I will wake you for dinner,” he said and Sakura struggled harder against her tiredness. Didn’t Itachi know that a voice like that _encouraged_ a girl to wake up just to see what happened next?

“Weren’t you out?” The memories were foggy but growing clearer as she reached for them. “Where’s Sasuke?”

“My business was concluded more quickly. Sasuke has poor luck with… fish.” There was the slightest inflection on the word. “I believe it will be some time yet before he returns.”

Rubbing at her eyes, she reached for the blanket but frowned in surprise when Itachi covered her hand with his. 

“Rest.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she attempted and failed at concealing her mulish pout. “If you let me nap too long I’ll be even more tired and cranky later when I can’t fall asleep.”

“Are you a child?” Itachi asked, amusement obvious in his tone. “I would have thought a fully-trained medic-nin to know better than to ignore the needs of her own body.” 

“I’m not a child,” she said, only to be interrupted by a yawn that made her jaw crack. “I’m an adult,” she continued, ignoring the smirk growing on his face, “and I’m already awake. You can’t force me to go back to sleep.”

In an instant Itachi’s eyes had flickered red. Sakura paused, not sure how to react.

“I could,” he said evenly as if he wasn’t threatening her with his very deadly doujutsu.

Sakura was not unfamiliar with using the Sharingan as a tranquilizing device. While the members of Team Seven normally succumbed to threats of physical violence and withheld mission privileges, Sakura had found it expedient to turn to Sasuke for help in the cases where he was not the injured party. While he hid his mothering instincts well, he was an inner worrywart and didn’t object to a little sedation between teammates when the teammates in question were being resistant to bed rest.

 _He_ knew better than to use that tactic on her, but it wasn’t a great leap of logic to assume he’d mentioned the chance of her being difficult to his brother, and what the possible methods to counter it might be.

Sasuke was in for it, Sakura mentally decided. Once she figured out what hers was he was going to be subjected to both her _and_ Naruto’s Ultimate Friendship Punishments for selling SSS-Class friendship secrets to his kami-cursed _aniki…!_

Plastering a too-bright smile on her face, Sakura reached under the blanket for the book that lay open across her chest.

“Alright,” she said in the syrupy-sweet voice that sent the rest of Team Seven scattering for cover, “I promise to stay here and _rest_ if you read me a bedtime story.” She proffered the book, fluttering her eyelashes theatrically the whole time.

Itachi let the Sharingan fade as he reached for the book. She settled back against the cushions and waited, ready for the smug look to be wiped straight off his face.

About five minutes later Sakura realized she’d grossly miscalculated. Itachi had somehow managed to single out the dirtiest, most dog-eared section and proceeded to read it in _that_ voice.

Sakura’s face was brighter than her hair and she felt so hot she was having trouble breathing either from intense mortification or from the _ideas_ that the words combined with Itachi’s voice were evoking—No, bad Sakura. She was _not_ having inappropriate thoughts about Sasuke’s brother, she was just feeling woozy with dehydration because all the water in her body was venting out her ears.

Even if it was embarrassing, Sakura couldn’t help being a little impressed. Kakashi-sensei could read his porn in public with a straight face but he certainly didn’t read it out loud.

Itachi reached the part she normally read with baited breath, the moment x body part verb preposition y body part and she heard a small choking noise. For an instant she thought the sound had come from her until Itachi stopped reading and looked up.

“Hello, Sasuke, how was the fishing?”

Sakura craned her head back against the couch armrest so she could see Sasuke upside down. He was standing in the hallway just outside the living room with four good-sized fish attached to a string, two points of color burning high on his cheekbones and two more spreading along the tips of his ears.

“Why—“ he started before the words abandoned him.

“Sasuke,” she complained, hoping to appeal to the saner of the two brothers, “he was trying to keep me in bed against my will.”

Sasuke closed his eyes for two, maybe three seconds, and in that brief period of time Sakura saw an almost pained expression cross his face. Then he was striding into the kitchen with a stiff-backed posture that clearly said they were being too troublesome and he didn’t want to deal with them.

“Aniki, stop flirting with my teammate.”

Sakura gaped, eyes darting towards Itachi, but as far as she could tell he thought nothing of reading bits out of dirty books to convalescing kunoichi.

Itachi handed the book back to her with a casual air of nonchalance Sakura would have thought impossible if she wasn’t seeing it with her own eyes. In her experience, particularly with Naruto and Sasuke, men seemed to have an almost phobic reaction to romance novels, as if the inked pages were liable to come alive and attempt to brainwash them into some secret cult of femininity.

Kakashi was the one notable exception, but since he was rather infamous for having no shame when it came to reading material he didn’t count. They’d had a conversation once while she was setting his ribs back at her apartment, _The Will of Desire_ unwisely left out on the coffee table.

He’d commented that it was unfair for her to call his books perverted when her reading material was hardly better and she’d pointed out easily that her books were _plot_ with porn, not _porn_ with plot. Kakashi had either been uncomfortable talking standards of literary porn with her, or thrown by the fact she’d basically admitted to reading Icha Icha, if only to have a basis of comparison.

Either way, she’d noticed some time later that the bookhad gone missing, and when it failed to reappear after a couple of weeks she’d very casually remarked at a Team Seven Ichiraku dinner that it was one of her _favorite_ books ever and if she couldn’t find it she would be quite _upset_.

Several months later she’d gifted _The Will of Desire_ and its sequel _Desire’s Shadow_ to Kakashi for his birthday, both signed by the author who was an old friend of Tsunade’s and more than happy to sign a few copies for her friend’s apprentice.

Bonding with Kakashi-sensei over romance novels had been unexpected, but when he smiled his one-eyed crease and said she was his favorite she knew it was the truth.

Naruto and Sasuke would have asked uncomfortably searching questions if Kakashi had borrowed their books without asking. They also wouldn’t have gone out of their way to recommend potential new reads.

For a second Sakura had a vision of Kakashi-sensei and Itachi discussing the finer points of the _Desire_ series, which was one of the best shinobi romance novel series out there, and had to stifle the urge to laugh.

Meanwhile, Sasuke and Itachi appeared to be cooperating on dinner this time, Sasuke preparing rice while Itachi handled the fish. Wanting to help Sakura stood up, draped the blanket over the back of the couch, and turned around.

Itachi was staring at her, kitchen knife poised over one of the fish. Sakura paused, her eyes flicking to the rigid line of Sasuke’s back; there would be no help from that direction.

Itachi wasn’t glaring, wasn’t threatening her in any way, but there was an obvious command in his eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, Sakura huffed and threw herself back against the couch cushions. The muscles in Sasuke’s back relaxed, and Itachi returned his attention to de-boning the fish.

Feeling like they’d just ganged up on her, Sakura opened her book and attempted to pick up where she’d left off when she’d fallen asleep. Except that now all she could hear was Itachi’s stupid sexy voice in her head reading the words and it was ruining everything. Frowning viciously, she reached for the storage scroll in pursuit of one of the difficult medical scrolls she’d barely touched since fleeing Konoha.

What felt like five minutes later Sasuke was shoving a plate under her nose. Sakura blinked myopically and suddenly realized she was starving. There was baked and salted fish and miso soup and _rice balls_. Sakura goggled first at Sasuke, then at his brother. They wore identically insufferable expressions and she decided she hated them. Then she stuffed one of the rice balls in her mouth and declared the time she’d spent as a nukenin entirely worth it if the reward was being cooked for and taken care of by the Uchiha brothers.

Sakura ate everything and didn’t protest when Sasuke took her plate without asking and came back with seconds, which she also ate. The brothers cleaned up while she sat in a dazed food coma, wondering why she’d ever questioned karmic justice before this point in her life.

Sasuke came back into the living room, sat on the couch beside her, and cleared his throat.

“We rejoin Naruto and the rest of the rebels in five months.”

Perking up at the news, Sakura sat up and turned to face her teammate.

“Five months seems like a long time.” A long time to stay separated from her other best friend when she was already so close to seeing him again.

“We-“ his eyes flicked briefly to his brother who was settling into the armchair- “Naruto and I, felt that it might be better if you had some time to recover before then. When we return—“ 

“The fighting will begin,” Itachi cut in. “With Tsunade-sama present your skills as a medic are not urgently needed. It would be best for you to regain your strength now.”

Sakura felt a brief flicker of annoyance that they had not only contacted Naruto, but also decided what she would be doing without asking for her opinion. But the slight resentment faded quickly. Her teammates knew what she’d been through and were doing their best to keep her in the most stress-free environment possible. She could tell from the way Sasuke was sitting as straight as humanly possible that he was nervous about having gone over her head in making this decision and was anticipating a fight.

“We can send you ahead early if you feel up to it,” he said, words just a little too fast.

“By myself?”

“You are more than capable of taking care of yourself,” Itachi said in a matter-of-fact tone that did good things for her ego.

“We have things we will have to take care of here before then,” Sasuke explained, “Passing information through the ANBU contact network and letting the rest of the rebel forces know it’s time for the invasion. Not everyone is with Naruto at the main camp.”

“And if I stay here, will I have to do anything?”

The two traded glances, and she wondered if they were surprised by how easily she’d accepted the news.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Sasuke answered. “There might be times when both of us have to leave, but your main priority is to concentrate on recovering your strength.”

Sakura sighed and settled deeper against the cushions while taking stock of herself. They’d found her operating at about fifty percent chakra capacity the night before. That was not unusual: The poor diet, high stress, and constant fighting had made a full recovery impossible. She’d been lucky to reach seventy percent chakra capacity as a nukenin, but she’d never dropped below thirty percent since the first few months of evading hunter-nin and ANBU squads when she’d routinely scraped the bottom of her chakra reserves, forced to fight with nothing but blind luck and desperation.

She was already at sixty percent or higher, and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Another couple of days being fattened up by the Uchiha brothers and allowed to sleep whenever she wanted and she’d be fully recovered. It was very tempting to suggest that they allow her to leave before the week was up, especially when she thought of the people waiting for her.

But she knew she’d already made her decision. Looking at the worry Sasuke was trying to keep from his face only cemented her choice.

Quirking one eyebrow, she smiled. “But what if I want to help?”

Sasuke’s expression cleared, his eyes warming fractionally. Even Itachi became more at ease, a tension vanishing she’d only noticed when it was gone.

“When you’ve recovered,” Sasuke said and she grinned, cracking the knuckles of first one hand and then the other. 

“Oh yeah? Let’s go outside and I’ll show you just how _recovered_ I am.”

Sasuke smirked. “Tomorrow.” It was as good as a promise and Sakura smirked in return.

Itachi shifted just slightly in his seat and they both glanced towards him. “Bedtime,” he said.

Her internal clock was telling her it was close to nine at night.

“You Uchiha need your beauty rest to maintain your vampiric good looks?” 

Sasuke gave her a disapproving look, probably for sassing his aniki, but Itachi looked completely unruffled by the comment.

“Yes,” he said simply. He gave her a mild, searching look. “If you are not tired I can read you a bedtime story.”

Without conscious thought Sakura’s eyes drifted to the edge of the couch where she’d left the novel. She couldn’t hide her blush any more than Sasuke could stop the mild coughing fit that suddenly afflicted him.

“No,” she murmured, trying not to act like a spooked deer, “that’s ok. I, uh, first dibs on bathroom!”

Utilizing the shinobi-cultivated speed that would have seemed rude in any other social situation, Sakura grabbed her pack and practically flew into the bathroom. Only when the door was shut did she sigh at her face in the mirror, knowing that Itachi had manipulated her but that she’d had no choice, not if she wanted to escape with her sanity intact.

There was a little voice in the back of her head, one she’d nearly forgotten after a long stretch of silence, that was insisting she go back out there, let Itachi read to her, and then suggest they try a little roleplay. Groaning, Sakura reached for her storage scroll and summoned the necessary toiletries and a change of clothes.

By the time she’d brushed her teeth and changed into an old, stained and badly mended shirt she felt more in control of herself and the voice that was ample evidence of the damage from her previous lifestyle where men, pretty or not, were out to get her and not potential flirting or makeout partners.

Though he was very pretty, she reminded herself that having untoward thoughts about Sasuke’s brother was highly inappropriate, even if he seemed to enjoy baiting her. Uchiha were born difficult. It was common knowledge, and she rather thought Sasuke and his brother had inherited the antagonistic gene in spades. She stomped back into the living room muttering under her breath about men who didn’t know when to quit.

Sasuke stopped talking when she walked in, lips pressing into a tight line as he stared at her. She would have ignored him, but she made the mistake of glancing at Itachi who was projecting an identical air of displeasure without using as many facial muscles as Sasuke. Not sure if this was a new form of mental torture, Sakura came to a halt and glared suspiciously at them.

“What?”

“Is that…blood?” Sasuke’s voice was very soft and she had to strain to hear, blinking down at her shirt when his words registered. 

There was a smattering of holes right over her heart that she’d stitched until the shirt was pulled in tightly to create several puckered spots of bunched fabric. There was a large rip in the left sleeve, over the shoulder, and at the bottom hem that went a little higher than was strictly modest. And, yes, there were some sizeable stains, even darker against the washed-out fabric, the biggest of which spread tellingly across her stomach, where a rent in the fabric had been stitched closed as if by a line of drunken ants.

“Yes,” Sakura agreed cautiously, glaring at him in case he decided to mock her mending abilities. “I didn’t exactly have the superfluous income to buy extra clothing just to sleep in, you know.”

Sasuke made a sound in his throat that sounded like a growl. Then between one blink and the next he was gone, striding in mere seconds later holding two items that he quickly threw at her.

“Put those on.” 

Bemused, she stared down at what had to be one of Naruto’s old shirts, though the orange was faded to create a strange spotted tie-dye effect. Underneath was a pair of navy blue boxers that had to be Sasuke’s. There was a little red fan on the ass, which had been one of Naruto’s more hilarious ideas back in the day. 

He’d been convinced for some inane Naruto-esque reason that they needed matching clothing items to help team solidarity. And so he’d had four pairs of _men’s_ boxers made, each with a little symbol identifying who they belonged to emblazoned proudly right beneath the band at the back. Her pair was red and had the Haruno clan crest in white. She’d left them in Konoha when she’d fled and still felt a pang of sorrow for the loss of the silly gift and the peaceful times it represented. That Sasuke apparently still had his and hadn’t put them to death with a Katon jutsu warmed her heart and made her less annoyed with how heavy-handed he was being. 

“It’s not _all_ my blood,” she grumped at him. Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her.

“Alright, _kaa-san_ ,” she snorted, stomping back to the bathroom.

When she emerged Sasuke gave her a nod, told her goodnight as if he hadn’t just been acting like a moody, overprotective parent, and vanished into the bathroom.

Which left just her and Itachi.

Who was in cahoots with his brother to drive her up the wall. Her eyes narrowed and she moved to fold the rejected shirt on the couch with her back to him, intent on giving Itachi the cold shoulder.

“He was worried about you,” he remarked into the quiet.

There was no censure in his voice, no rebuke though he could have easily chastised her. Sakura paused, tracing one finger along the stitching that marred the largest bloodstain.

“I know,” she sighed, the memories rising within her unbidden.

For a second she closed her eyes and smelled burning hair and singed fabric, the hot flush across her cheek a scalding reminder that the last attack could have been very, very lethal. Sometimes the squads suggested she come with them and escape from the violence that would be done to her person otherwise. She’d rejected the offer, snapping a neck before her opponents could rally themselves.

In exchange for her near immolation she’d ruptured the organs of another, whipping out a kunai to deflect the barrage headed towards her. Then she was slammed painfully against a tree, her entire spine nothing more than one big bruise. Her attacker had hissed unkind things in her face she hadn’t bothered to hear, large hand gripping her at the shoulder with enough force to threaten dislocation.

Sakura did not hesitate in head butting him, slotting a kunai backwards into his heart as she moved around his dazed form. She dimly registered the ripping sound, the clench of force on the bottom of her shirt the waning strength of a death throe, but brushed the fingers off absently.

The one in the clearing was furious, she could sense it even from beneath his blank porcelain mask. They grappled briefly, he bearing down on her with a sword and an inarticulate cry of rage. But in close quarters she had the advantage and after only a few seconds she was twisting her body around his and ignoring the painful sting of a cut across her forearm as she kicked him back fifteen feet and into a tree.

But the last one had been hiding the entire battle and biding his time, and Sakura was not fast enough to evade the shallow slice across her midsection. The pain was instant and burning, but she ignored it in favor of sizing up her enemy. He was angry and sloppy with it, just like the last shinobi. Sakura wondered vaguely if she was getting better or if the squads being sent to retrieve her now were less competent than the ones that had made her flee for her life only months before.

Vision blurry, she made a split-second decision and stood still just a moment too long, prompting the other shinobi to charge at her moment of weakness. The instantaneous kawarimi left him staring into the mask-less, glazed eyes of one of his companions as his sword bit into unresisting flesh up to the hilt. Sakura severed his spinal column from behind with a brush of her fingertips, staring blankly at the tableau of destruction around her, then at the blood that was liberally soaking her pants.

She felt cold suddenly in the room with Itachi and the faded shirt. Feeling her lifeblood slipping through her fingers as she desperately pushed chakra into her wound and prayed to the whims of fate had left her chilled, as if her own emotions were buried under ice, unable to thaw until she knew she’d live and have another opportunity to use them.

“It’s not his fault he wasn’t there,” she whispered.

Wasn’t there to hold her in the aftermath while she tried not to shake with the knowledge of what she’d done and what she’d almost lost, shivering and cold, so dreadfully, achingly cold she thought she’d never be warm again.

Itachi said nothing and she was glad her back was to him. She didn’t want to know what her face looked like in that moment.

“That will not stop him from blaming himself,” he finally replied, voice equally soft. “There are many people who worried for you. Many of them still do.”

She wondered suddenly if he included himself among their number. If Sasuke had been here in his place she might have gone to him for the sense of protection he offered. But this was Itachi and she didn’t know him, not really, even if he seemed determined to assist Sasuke in providing for her. Seeking physical comfort from him was not something she could ask for, not yet.

Down the hall there was the click of a door opening, footsteps, and then the sound of another door being drawn shut; Sasuke was out of the bathroom.

Methodically, Sakura’s fingers finished folding the shirt and she dropped it carelessly beside her pouch. The pillow was placed at one end of the couch and the blanket spread across it before she slowly lay down and tucked herself in. Only then did Itachi move, reaching for the light switch on the wall as he crossed the room.

“Goodnight, Sakura.” 

She murmured something that might have been a reply and closed her eyes when the room was plunged into darkness. They’d barely spoken and yet somehow she was so tired she felt the exhaustion singing in her bones. Wearily, Sakura pressed her face into the pillow and willed herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: _The Will of Desire_ is a very obvious pun on "the Will of Fire" with _Desire's Shadow_ punning on the literal meaning of Hokage as "Fire Shadow." Yes, I'm proud of myself.


	3. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've reviewed! I was responding to a couple reviews when I was reminded of this story and realized there were _two_ chapters I'd never posted, for some reason. As you can see your comments really do encourage me to keep going.
> 
> Speaking of comments—in the interest of fleshing out my very bare bones plot please feel free to send me ideas for character interaction you'd like to see (itasaku, sasusaku, or itasakusasu) either in a review or over on my [tumblr](http://magicabout.tumblr.com/), and you're always welcome just to say hi! Maybe inspiration will strike and you'll see a version of your prompt in a future update! :3

Sakura awoke to the smell of frying batter. She sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep and dark dreams from her eyes, hoping to set aside her lingering anxiety in the face of such delicious smells. The elder Uchiha was in the kitchen this time, his back to her as he flipped pancakes. Slowly trying to finger-comb her disastrous bed head Sakura watched the muscles shift underneath his shirt as he worked.

Beneath the scent of cooking pancakes was another smell, this one bitter and metallic, lodging somewhere under her tongue and in the back of her throat. Sakura choked back bile and looked away with a grimace, embarrassed at her reaction. It was a nightmare and she should have been used to them by now; this certainly wasn’t the first time she’d awoken with lingering memories of blood and the frozen stares of glassy eyes. But apparently psychoses didn’t just go away when you told them to. Reaching for her pack, Sakura unearthed the storage scroll and summoned her hairbrush.

When Sasuke emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later she was roughly tugging the hairbrush through her hair, relishing the pain of ripping apart her tangles with careless disregard for what her hair would be like once she finished. Sasuke took one look at her face, glanced at his brother still in the kitchen, and then took the hairbrush from her in a blur of chakra-enhanced speed.

Before she could protest he had pushed her across several inches of couch, sat down behind her, and started to brush her hair. All the fight went out of her at the care he took in gently easing her tangles away with calm, even strokes. She was momentarily surprised at his seemingly anachronistic skill before the natural comfort that came from having her hair brushed overcame higher brain functions like thinking. Relaxing the rest of the way into Sasuke’s touch, she forgot entirely about disturbing dreams and faceless enemies.

She stirred when Sasuke got up from behind her, blinking open dazed eyes just in time to watch Itachi fuss over something on a plate before carrying it to her. His offering was a stack of three pancakes with a heap of strawberry and banana slices artfully arranged on top. She couldn’t help the small smile at how _pretty_ the whole thing looked, and took the plate with a soft thank you.

“I apologize,” he said, “we don’t have any syrup.”

“No, this is great,” she responded immediately, already spearing a few slices of fruit on her fork. “Thank you, Itachi.”

His eyes warmed. “I believe that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by name.”

Before she could come up with a reply to his statement, Itachi had turned away to return to the kitchen. Stuffing her mouth with fruit in lieu of saying something, Sakura chewed in contentment. Ino would be after her blood once they overthrew Danzou and released her. Uchiha cooking for her! Every day! Offering up a silent apology to her best friend, she watched Itachi serve more food while Sasuke handled beverage duty.

Speaking of her teammate, Sakura raised an eyebrow at him when he handed her a glass of milk. He snorted and then replied to the unasked question, proving that Team Seven’s highly developed Team Telepathy was still working perfectly.

“I used to brush Itachi’s hair when we were younger.”

Her eyebrows rose into her hairline at his unexpected reply, and she glanced quickly at the elder Uchiha who was carrying two plates, both with less strawberries than hers, she noted idly.

“And when was that?”

“Up until he was eight,” Itachi replied, trading a plate of pancakes for a glass of juice from his brother.

That was the year Itachi was given command of his own ANBU squad. Sakura processed the knowledge, but waved it away in favor of imagining a thirteen-year-old Itachi sitting patiently while an eight-year-old Sasuke ran a brush through his hair.

“That sounds really cute,” she smiled, putting aside her plate in favor of pinching Sasuke’s cheek and cooing at him. “Brushing your brother’s hair! Sasuke-kun, that’s so _cuuuuute!_ ”

He frowned and batted her hand away. “Says the kunoichi with _pink_ hair.”

“Sasuke-kun,” she said with a dramatic gasp, “did you just call me _cute?_ ”

Sasuke half snorted half growled and she laughed at the peeved expression on his face.

“Eat your pancakes, Sakura.” He took an extra-large bite of his own food as if trying to lead by example.

Chuckling, Sakura followed his advice and easily demolished her breakfast. Without missing a beat, Itachi set his plate down and moved to stand up.

“That’s ok,” she said quickly, sensing his intentions, “I’m full.”

His searching look implied he didn’t believe her. Sakura rolled her eyes and frowned disapprovingly at both of them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she warned, “trying to fatten me up with all this food. I’m _full_. I wouldn’t turn down free food, not after going hungry for a year.”

Itachi settled back into his seat, though he did not pick up his plate. “You need to recover your strength.”

“The whole year?” Sasuke asked, mouth pinched in displeasure.

Glaring at each of them in turn, Sakura threw up her hands in frustration. “Fine! I will have one more pancake. _One!_ ” She held up the appropriate number of fingers, as if to a pair of recalcitrant toddlers, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Itachi nodded as if he hadn’t just spearheaded an attack on her health or supposed lack thereof and rose from his chair. Surrendering her plate, Sakura watched him the whole way to and from the kitchen, slumping back into the couch with a sigh when he came back with one pancake. One really large pancake with a least five strawberries’ worth of slices on top.

Muttering angrily about men who thought they knew best, Sakura began mutinously stuffing pieces of pancake into her mouth, which was no easy feat when the food was so delicious. The pancake was light and fluffy, and the strawberries were crisp and sweet. And they both knew it, the insufferable jerks.

When she’d finished, Sakura got up with her best angry flounce and left her plate in the kitchen sink, daring both of them to comment with her eyes when she returned to the couch to grab her pack.

“If it’s more convenient for you,” Itachi said, totally ignoring her show of temper, “you may leave your things around the house. Sasuke and I wish you to be comfortable during your stay here.”

Sakura had a sudden and very immature desire to summon all of her underwear and toss it into the air like confetti, just to see how the stupid stoic brothers would react to frilly underthings raining from the sky. Except, well, she’d fled Konoha with none of her frilly underthings and all of her lady garments were bland, tasteful, and had come out of the five-for-five hundred ryo packs sold in convenience and grocery stores, fun underwear being an impractical expense when she spent most of her time sweating and bleeding in her clothes.

Quashing her desire to be childish, Sakura retreated to the bathroom where she changed into her standard outfit of black three-quarter sleeved shirt and black pants. She left off the basic navy blue flak vest and kunai holster, already feeling dour and boring. While dark colors were the least attention-grabbing and most versatile for the shinobi on the run, Sakura didn’t like seeing herself as she was. With her dyed hair, the only hint of color came from her un-henged eyes, creating a painful reminder of how much Danzou’s takeover had forced her to change every aspect of the daily life she’d taken for granted.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror had sobered her enough that she followed Itachi’s advice with only brief hesitation, leaving her blue toothbrush in the cup on the sink with the purple and green ones that were already there. Her toothpaste didn’t fit on the rim, so she tucked it under the sink with her face wash and lotion. Next, she put her bathing essentials on the shelf with the men’s’ shampoo/conditioner and unscented body wash.

Someone had thoughtfully placed her lime green towel on the rack next to a navy blue one. Sakura bit her lip while she debated with herself before finally hanging up her bath scubber on the end of the rack next to her towel. It was green and had a terrycloth frog head and four frog feet sticking out of it.

As satisfied with the bathroom arrangement as she was ever likely to be when she was denied the fun touches of her own bathroom at home and sharing the space with two men, Sakura stepped out of the room ready to demand a sparring match with Sasuke.

Itachi was slipping his sandals on in the small vestibule in front of the door. She’d previously ignored the space between the living room and the bathroom, having had no desire to leave the house the day before, but glanced with interest at her boots lined up neatly next to what she presumed to be Sasuke’s footwear.

“Mission?”

“No,” he replied, double-checking the straps on both sandals, “I must meet with a contact. He gave us the tip that led us to you. I hope his other information proves as useful.”

Not sure of the proper etiquette for the situation, Sakura smiled stiffly. “Good luck,” she offered after a few seconds. “Be safe.”

Itachi looked up, met her eyes, and nodded. Sakura watched him leave, feeling peculiar. The last time she’d seen anyone off it had been her teammates at Konoha’s main gates leaving for the Kage summit, Kakashi-sensei looking uncomfortable at the role he was about to play.

Chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, Sakura continued into the living room. Sasuke was sitting on the neatened couch frowning over the medical scroll she’d been reading the night before.

“You,” she said as she dropped her pouch on the floor, “owe me a spar.”

He looked up and didn’t say anything. But they were teammates and Sakura could read the silent question in his eyes just as easily as printed words on a page.

“You promised, Sasuke.”

She didn’t like his quietly assessing look and pointed a finger accusingly at him.

“Uchiha Sasuke, don’t you _dare_ baby me. Feeding me and letting me sleep in—“ she rolled her eyes at the subtle lift of eyebrows that betrayed he’d thought she wouldn’t notice just because the house didn’t have a clock—“is one thing, but if you treat me like you did when we were twelve I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

Making a noise that in any other person would have been a sigh, Sasuke looked away.

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know you don’t,” she said, mollified somewhat by his tone. “But you can’t keep me locked up just because you’re scared something might happen to me.”

He snorted at that and met her eyes.

“Sakura, something _already_ happened to you and I wasn’t there to protect you—wasn’t there to help you when you needed it most. We thought we’d lost you, but you thought _we_ were dead. I had Naruto and Kakashi and I had Itachi and I knew who’d made it out alive. You were all alone.”

Swallowing over a suddenly tight throat, Sakura focused on the wall across the room, unable to bear the raw emotion that flashed in his eyes or the answering emotion that swelled in her chest.

“I’m not… I’m not some sort of _damaged good_ you need to put back together, Sasuke. I survived and, yeah, it really sucked, but I got through it. I’m here _now_.” She attempted a shaky smile, knowing that it was false but trying for sincerity anyway.

“You—“ he shook his head violently and stood up, stalking the few feet to where she stood. Before she could turn away he’d grasped her chin in his hand and tilted her face so she was forced to look into his eyes.

“You’re the one who always fusses over us when we come back injured. We—Naruto and I, Kakashi, Tsunade— _we_ were worried about you. Do you think you’re the only one allowed to be worried?

“I _know_ you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but you don’t have to be alone anymore. Let me take care of you. Not because you need it but because I _want_ to.”

Sakura stared up at him and felt her heart do a little flip in her chest. She’d always known Sasuke cared about her, in a sort of snarky know-it-all annoying little brother kind of way. But she’d never seen him like this, intense and unafraid of expressing himself in a way so unlike the old Sasuke. That Sasuke had been gruff and preachy in turns, as if he found his own honesty embarrassing without the facade of bluster to hide behind.

Seeing the depths of his feelings for her was…it made something inside her clench and she blinked back the sting of tears, surprised at the intense happiness she felt. Nobody had cared about her, _really_ cared about her since before her descent into hell. She’d forgotten what it felt like, the warmth of being loved.

Lifting a hand to Sasuke’s cheek, she stared at him, happy and yet unable to fully understand the way she felt.

“What happened to you, Sasuke?”

He turned his face to the side just enough that he was no longer looking straight into her eyes, but not enough to pull away from her hand.

“You only discover how much you care for something when it’s gone,” he murmured gruffly. A light blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

Letting the smile pull the corners of her mouth up, Sakura took the single step necessary to bring their bodies together, resting her head beneath his chin and wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, and they both relaxed into the embrace with a wordless sigh.

Sasuke had never been much of a hugger in the past, preferring instead to tense up like a cat caught in a petting before it could escape. She much preferred the easy comfort she’d always enjoyed with Naruto, and thought longingly of her other boy, wishing he could be there to turn it into a group hug. He’d be jealous, she thought fondly, pressing her face against Sasuke’s neck.

After about twenty seconds of snuggling, Sasuke gently pushed her away by the shoulders. His eyes were focused somewhere above and to the left of her head, and his cheeks were still a little pink. It seemed even the New and Improved! Emotionally Responsive Sasuke had his limits. Deciding to take pity on him, Sakura quirked an eyebrow knowing that he’d see it in his peripheral vision.

“Sasuke-kun, are you _scared?_ ”

 _That_ caught his attention, and he gave up his perusal of the ceiling to frown at her. ”What?”

“Of getting your ass kicked, I mean,” she continued flippantly. “I know how you smug Uchiha _so_ hate to lose.”

His frown deepened. “I’m not going to lose.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Assuming a haughty expression, Sakura stared him down. Very slowly she crossed her arms over her chest and stood up straight in a creditable imitation of Tsunade, sans precipitous cleavage.

Sasuke looked at her very briefly, his facial features resolving into an expression that would have been accompanied in the past by a statement like “annoying,” now thankfully beaten out of him by two teammates who thought that criticisms should be expressed in more constructive ways.

“Hn.”

And then he started walking towards the door.

Grinning widely at her victory, Sakura cheerfully hip-checked Sasuke out of the way in her rush to get outside. Jamming her feet into her boots, she threw the door open and practically skipped out into the sun, seeing her new temporary residence for the first time.

She was strangely disappointed. It was just… a house. Considering the Uchiha brothers’ unexpected domesticity she’d been anticipating flowers or a little garden, or at the very least maybe some targets set up in the grass with Danzou’s face stuck to them. It was just an average cabin in the middle of an equally unremarkable forest.

Turning, she waited impatiently for Sasuke to make his way over, apparently not in a rush to expose his noble Uchiha pallor to the dappled sunlight drifting down through the trees.

He gave her a look full of quiet amusement and took his own sweet time walking further into the woods, leading her further away until she could barely make out the house between the trees.

Sakura blinked and squinted at the house. They’d been walking for less than a minute, and the trees in this part of the forest were larger and more widely spaced. The house should have been easily visible.

“It’s a genjutsu designed to confuse the sense of distance of anyone approaching the house directly.”

Interested, Sakura directed her gaze slightly to the right of the distant illusion projected by the genjutsu. Sure enough, the house appeared in the corner of her eye at what she judged to be the correct distance for forty to fifty seconds of walking at a slow pace. When she moved to look directly at the house it shifted to the left and seemed to recede from her vision. Anyone who kept following the projected image would be led farther and farther away from the real house, chasing a mirage that never got any closer until the victim reached the extent of the jutsu’s range and realized they had no idea where they were. And considering that the genjutsu had been cast by two powerful Uchiha, Sakura had no doubt the range was extensive.

“Nice,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you and your brother collaborate on something like this. I’m assuming the other traps are equally impressive.”

Sasuke inclined his head in acceptance of her compliment and began his warm-up stretches. Following his lead, Sakura couldn’t help but think of the other examples of brotherly teamwork from the past two days.

She knew that the two were very close and that Sasuke had stars in his eyes when it came to his beloved aniki, but due to Itachi’s role in the village she’d rarely seen them together, Itachi usually not being home the times she and Naruto had stopped by or been invited over. Actually, most of what she knew about Itachi was second-hand either from Sasuke or from general village gossip. It saddened her to realize she’d missed out on someone who was so important in Sasuke’s life.

“Has it been…fun?” She asked, curious and trying to broach the subject delicately. “Staying with Itachi, I mean. I know you two don’t get to spend much time together.”

“I know it was something Naruto considered when this mission was proposed.” To anyone else Sasuke’s bland words might have implied disapproval, but Sakura would have known immediately if her teammate was unhappy with his post.

“Still,” he glanced towards the treetops swaying far over their heads, “I can’t fully appreciate anything that comes of what Danzou did to us.”

Sakura pressed her lips together and stared at his face. Of course, how could Sasuke enjoy finally getting to work with his brother when it was because most of their clan was dead? For a second she felt like an ass—she’d walked straight into that one.

They hadn’t really _talked_ , not about the can of worms that was the Uchiha massacre. Only about her own personal problems, and that realization made her feel selfish until she recalled the way Sasuke had reached out to her and clung just as tightly when they hugged. A look at his face and the tightness around his mouth revealed that one emotional outburst a day was probably Sasuke’s limit. She’d let it go for now, but she wouldn’t forget.

Finishing their warm-up stretches in silence, they faced each other and she waited for Sasuke to set the rules for the spar.

“No jutsu,” he said right away, “and no chakra. This is supposed to be a safe house and we don’t want to attract any attention that might give away our location. Taijutsu only.”

Sakura widened her stance, but didn’t otherwise move.

“Ready? He asked, waiting for her answering nod before continuing. “Go.”

At his signal Sakura charged. No chakra meant no super-strength, which was one of her best advantages over male shinobi who were naturally stronger. And aside from Kakashi-sensei who had years of experience on them, Sasuke was the best at pure taijutsu in Team Seven. She did not need to give him enough time to show off what he’d been learning from concentrated study with his brother.

Sakura had two fingers pointed, ready for a jab at one of the pressure points on his chest that, with chakra behind it, would paralyze his lungs, before she checked herself and turned the attack into an open-palm strike. Expecting her hit to be deflected or sidestepped, she was already moving into a position from which she could block or flow into her next attack when she registered that Sasuke was not coming after her.

He was sitting on his butt in the dirt looking extremely surprised.

Blinking, she squashed the desire to make the Ram seal and mutter “Kai.” An Uchiha would never sacrifice their personal dignity to entrap an opponent in genjutsu.

“Uh…” she started, still half-convinced her eyes were deceiving her.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Sasuke said, sounding impressed.

Sakura’s combat experiences from the past year could be divided into roughly two categories: kill or run away. The majority of the bounties and nukenin she’d hunted for missions had been small-time thugs who didn’t pose any real challenge. It had been a long time since she’d gone head-to-head with a serious opponent simply to test her skills and not to leave the other party severely deceased.

It was entirely possible she’d gotten better without ever noticing until this moment of triumph, landing a hit on Sasuke that knocked him on his ass. She wanted to smirk, but didn’t want to potentially hurt Sasuke’s pride when he was being so sensitive towards her own feelings.   

“Maybe the Sharingan?” She offered Sasuke a hand up, which he graciously accepted.

“Hn.” He said, eyes obligingly bleeding red. They faced off again.

This time when Sakura attacked Sasuke slid away at the last possible second. From the tightness of his mouth as he dodged her next blow Sakura judged that even with the minimum amount of chakra directed to his eyes he was still having trouble following her movements.

Before he’d left Konoha for the Kage summit she had been matching his Sharingan with her chakra-enhanced strength and speed. In their spars he was always faster and she was always stronger, so the fights went to whoever outmaneuvered the other first. But now she was fast enough to fight even the low-leveled Sharingan without the extra boost her chakra provided. Excitement surged through her veins at the sudden possibilities.

She knew Sasuke had directed a little more chakra to his eyes when he blocked her next punch and countered with a kick that reverberated through her forearm. Grinning, Sakura ducked under his guard and jabbed him in the side, immediately retreating when he twisted to meet her strike. From the smirk on his face, she knew he was enjoying the fight just as much as she was.

They traded blows for a while, neither gaining much ground. But Sakura found she was tiring after repeatedly having to check her strikes. Apparently a side effect of constantly being in fear for one’s life was forgetting not to use deadly force in a friendly spar. Sasuke was going to take advantage of her hesitation and finish the match and she didn’t want that, not when she was determined to prove that she was strong enough to take care of herself and he could stop worrying so much.

The next time she moved to attack she paused just a second too long knowing that Sasuke would have noticed her previous lapses and would be waiting to turn her weakness into an opening. He dodged her feint towards his left side and dropped low for a sweeping kick that would upset her footing when she was most vulnerable after an attack. Instead she knocked his foot away, rammed her palm up into his sternum, and touched a finger to his neck.

With a single finger and a little chakra Sakura could sever arteries, rupture organs, knock a shinobi into a tree hard enough to shatter bone on impact, and open a fissure in the earth.

Sasuke stilled.

They were both panting and flushed from the fight, faces close enough that Sakura could clearly see the tomoe in his eyes melt back into a regular pupil as his irises darkened.

A corner of his lip twitched up. “I yield,” he said, as if formally surrendering for a duel.

Rolling her eyes, Sakura cuffed him lightly on the forehead and then mussed his hair, just because he always hated when she did that. True to form, Sasuke scowled and took a step back.

“You’re worse than my brother about that.”

“What, beating you?”

His look was very dry. “The head thing.”

Thinking about it, she tried to recall if Itachi had done anything peculiar to Sasuke’s head since her arrival. Nothing stood out from the past day and a half, but she seemed to remember a much younger Sasuke complaining about his aniki’s odd brotherly mannerisms.

“Oh, you mean—“ and she gave him a solid prod right to the center of his forehead with her index finger, probably a little harder than necessary from the way Sasuke reeled back and then covered his abused forehead with a hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said glaring.

Unrepentant, she grinned at him. “He _still_ does that? I remember you used to hate it.”

“I still do,” Sasuke muttered with a tone of heavy suggestion that she cheerfully ignored.

“Your brother’s actually pretty cool. I wish I’d known him better back in Konoha.” Sakura sighed and watched the sunlight shifting across the ground at her feet. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have looked like such an idiot.”

“You’re not the only one who needed to be convinced,” Sasuke said evenly. “In the first few months following the coup every shinobi who made it out of Konoha reacted that way when they saw him.”

“That makes me feel _worse_ , Sasuke, not better! He’s your brother—I should’ve trusted your judgment.”

“Your first reaction on seeing what you deemed a potential threat was to protect me. Itachi will never hold that against you,” he said wryly.

“I’m still sorry,” she mumbled, eyes on her feet.

“Don’t be. Itachi likes you.”

Sakura’s head darted up at his unexpected statement, instantly thinking of Sasuke’s comment about Itachi flirting with her from the day before. He met her surprised look with the one-shouldered half shrug the Uchiha were infamous for. Then to her further surprise he looked away and his back straightened.

“Once Itachi started in ANBU I spent less and less time with him. We couldn’t be together, not like before, and I wanted to get that time back somehow on the few occasions he was home.” Sasuke continued staring off into the trees, shoulders tight with what she recognized as embarrassment.

“Itachi has always been on a level above me. His missions were classified, so I did most of the talking. He was the one I complained to when girls started following me around, and when I got assigned the worst teammates and Jounin-sensei possible.”

Understanding clicked. Sasuke was embarrassed because he’d told Itachi about them, about Team Seven, when trust and loyalty between teams was supposed to be absolute. In Konoha what happened in a team stayed in a team, even if the team didn’t stay together. Yet Sakura couldn’t be completely angry at his confession, not when she knew the motivation behind his actions. She’d told her parents things too, and for the same reason.

Sakura remembered twelve-year-old Sasuke well, both as the light of her life and, later, as a great big prat. He’d fended off her attentions with a cold shoulder and barely-suppressed annoyance. In retrospect she could understand—twelve-year-old Sakura was not somebody she particularly liked either.

“You told your brother about me?”

Despite her best intentions—she could understand _really_ she could—she couldn’t help the hint of betrayal that snuck into her tone. Sasuke darted a quick look at her and nodded.

“He would have known about you anyway,” he hastened to add. “It’s not like he didn’t check up on me behind my back.”

“That’s not the same as a _first-person account!_ ”

They both winced when her shrill tone sent several drowsy birds winging away in fright. Sakura became aware that chakra was pooling underneath her knuckles and slowly unclenched her fists.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Checking another sigh, Sakura looked at her teammate. He hadn’t told her because he wanted to make her angry, and her pride wasn’t stinging through any fault of his.

“Fine. Though that’s _really_ embarrassing. More embarrassing than Operation Fish Lips.”

Sasuke turned a dull red color and shook his head once as if clearing away bad memories. “ _Nothing_ is more embarrassing than Operation Fish Lips.”

“Your brother is, like, one of _the_ most feared and respected shinobi in the Five Nations and he knows in-depth about my _girl_ phase. Please, Sasuke, try convincing me again how I still hold a shred of self-respect in his eyes.”

Sasuke gave her a Look. “Sakura, _you_ are a girl. Do you go through any phases that aren’t ‘girl’ phases?”

“Don’t argue with me!” She pointed a finger at his chest and was gratified when he flinched slightly, though he tried to pretend he hadn’t. “Those were my Dark Days, Sasuke.”

He just stared at her, aware that she’d gone from irate to melodramatic. Giving him a petulant look, Sakura crossed her arms.

“You were explaining how your brother likes me, despite knowing all my awful tawdry secrets.”

“You protected me,” he said simply, rolling his eyes as if the answer should be obvious. “And Naruto. You were a good teammate and you looked out for us, even Kakashi who wasn’t exactly Grade-A sensei material. When it counted you were there.”

She processed the meaning behind this with growing incredulity. “So your brother is just a big softie at heart?”

Which actually made sense, considering how he’d apparently spoiled Sasuke rotten and was trying to do the same to her. Was mothering a universal Uchiha trait? Or maybe it was just Uchiha Mikoto’s sons.

Sasuke made a noise that wanted to be a scoff but didn’t quite make the cut and turned away. It was a sound of neither confirmation nor rebuttal, which was rather telling.

“Itachi protects his own.”

“And that includes me and Naruto?

“You’re part of _my_ team.” Sasuke pointed out and then added, “You’ve fixed up his team before. You’ve fixed _him_ up before.”

“So have the other medics at the hospital, and Tsunade-shishou does the heavy lifting when it comes to Sharingan-related problems. I’m a close second,” she said when he opened his mouth to make a comment, “it’s true. But she’s the one with the most experience and the one who taught me. I have a ways to go before I’m as specialized as she is.”

Sasuke made a sound of frustration from behind his teeth when she’d finished.

“Sakura, would it kill you to admit that you’re good at what you do, that being primarily to look after those you care about? Itachi honed himself to be the very best, not because the village or the Clan wanted him to, but because he wanted to be strong enough to protect the people close to him. Is it so hard to believe he saw the same thing in you and respects you for it?”

“That,” she murmured, blinking through blurry eyes, “is probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Sasuke. I’m pretty sure comparing me to your brother is the highest compliment you can give.”

Her teammate flushed slightly and looked away, murmuring something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I do _not_ have a brother complex.”

Gruffly clearing his throat, he pretended not to see her wiping at her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Itachi likes you.”

“Well, I like him too,” she declared, feeling better after the pep talk. “He cooks, he cleans, he’s good looking, and I’ve always wanted to fight him, I just wasn’t sure he was open to polite requests. I bet Naruto’s already challenged him a hundred times since the resistance started, and Kakashi-sensei knew him in ANBU, so I’m probably the only member of our team who hasn’t been able to fight him before. I really…”

Sakura trailed off mid-chatter when she caught a glance of Sasuke’s face. He was staring at a fixed distance somewhere over her head and his shoulders were tight with suppressed tension.

The words “Brother Complex” flashed in neon characters before her eyes. Knowing Naruto, he’d most likely done his best to insinuate himself with Sasuke’s mysterious aniki, having been just as unacquainted with the elder Uchiha as she had been. If Naruto’s Instant Friendship Jutsu worked on Gaara, it was probable he’d wormed his way into Itachi’s good graces as well. Kakashi-sensei had always shared a sort of genial respect with the prodigy. Which left her singing Itachi’s praises when it was Sasuke who had done so much to build her back up emotionally.

In a flash she was across the clearing taking advantage of Sasuke’s distraction to wrap him in a firm headlock. Then she started rubbing her cheek obnoxiously against his head.

“Aw, Sasuke, don’t pout. You’ll always be _my_ favorite Uchiha. I’ll tell your fangirls we’re dating to get them off your back any day of the week, promise.” She squeezed him harder than strictly necessary and continued messing up his precious hair.

“Hn,” he said, suspiciously limp in her grasp. “I may take you up on that offer.”

Before she could blink he’d extracted himself with a neat kawarimi, and she quickly opened her arms to release the sizeable dead log. In another half second he was back and pushing her towards the fallen log on the forest floor.

“I’ll get us some water,” he said over his back as he calmly walked towards the house.  
  
Sakura sat on her log and shook her head. Touchy-feely Uchiha time was apparently over. Sunlight drifted across her face through the leaves above and she smiled as she waited for Sasuke to return.


	4. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about having _one_ extra chapter last update? Turns out that was a lie since I finished CH5 between then and now.
> 
> Thank you to those who've reviewed and/or provided ideas for what you'd like to see in this story! Please keep sending in suggestions, either here or on my [tumblr](http://magicabout.tumblr.com/) (where you can comment anonymously if you want).

When Sasuke reappeared holding two glasses of water he tilted his head towards the trees in a wordless demand. Taking the glass, Sakura rose from her log and followed Sasuke on what soon became a leisurely tour of the traps protecting the house. He led her carefully towards each one, explaining its effects and demonstrating the seals necessary both to temporarily disrupt it to pass through unharmed, and the longer sequences needed to disable it completely.

Casually sipping at her water Sakura admired the workmanship, noting the traps she presumed to be Sasuke and Itachi’s work and the older ones they’d simply updated with chakra to keep alive. After passing what looked like a nasty Doton pitfall trap, Sakura’s curiosity was piqued.

“You said this was a safe house,” she questioned Sasuke’s back as he walked ahead of her, “but whose is it?”

“ANBU.”

Pausing, she frowned at him, waiting for him to stop and look at her before continuing. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but hasn’t Danzou taken over ANBU with his zombie flunkies?”

“Most of ANBU was out of the village when Danzou took over. The members still in Konoha have been split up from their original cells and reassigned to Root squads, the better for Danzou to keep an eye on them.”

Sakura mulled over his words for a few seconds. “One of the main reasons Danzou decided to attack in the first place was because so many upper-level shinobi were gone. But ANBU is supposed to serve as part of the village’s defenses, especially in times when Konoha is most vulnerable.

“Tsunade-shishou was in the hospital. Why would so many ANBU be ordered on a mission away from the village…?”

Scrutinizing Sasuke’s face offered no clues. Her teammate knew something, but he wasn’t going to tell her. Sakura tried to put together all the information she’d learned from the Uchiha brothers during her stay. Itachi’s alibi had something to do with an ANBU mission outside the village, presumably the same one that had diverted enough of Konoha’s black ops away Danzou decided it was the perfect time to commit the unforgivable.

Her eyes flicked in the general direction of the cabin, hidden somewhere deeper in the woods. That Itachi and Sasuke thought it was safe meant they weren’t worried about the ANBU still under Danzou’s thumb giving their position away. She must be missing something.

Danzou was a distrustful bastard, but he was also a conniving, deceitful bastard who knew any information was a potential weapon. He had no moral qualms against torturing loyal ANBU for secrets that might betray their rebel teammates. Yet he hadn’t used his ill-gotten knowledge to hunt down every hidden ANBU rendezvous point and safe house in Fire. Maybe he had more important things to worry about than chasing potential threats.

In the heady daze of safety she’d neglected to ask some important questions, deciding that for once in a long time she could push her worries aside for another day. Slanting her eyes back to her silent teammate, Sakura re-evaluated her priorities.

“Sasuke, where are we?”

“Three days’ journey from the Valley of the End.”

“Three  _ days? _ ” Her eyebrows rose. “I was a day and a half past Waterfall’s border when you found me.” Quickly her mind replayed the sequence of events following their appearance in the dark forest, pausing on the moment Itachi’s hands had gripped her arms and she’d found herself in an unfamiliar house.

“Itachi transported all three of us more than half a day’s run away?” She didn’t bother hiding her incredulity.

“Shisui is the best in the Clan at moving short distances. Itachi is the best at long distance transportation.”

Shaking her head, Sakura started muttering darkly. “I know you Uchiha have larger chakra coils, but that’s just ridiculous. Was he even tired afterwards?”

“Cooking and gathering information aren’t stressful activities,” Sasuke said with a quirk to his lips. “Itachi will be fine.”

“ _ Training _ isn’t a stressful activity either,” she countered, “and I still had to fight with you to be able to fight you.”

“That’s different, and you know it.” He gave her a reproving look. “Itachi wasn’t suffering severe chakra depletion when he moved us. We were in hostile territory, Sakura. Getting you to safety was our top priority.”

She pursed her lips, but conceded the point. Kami, was she this annoying when she took care of them? Her boys were stubborn, pig-headed males with kami complexes larger than the Kyuubi’s chakra stores. Normally she was the uninjured one dragging their asses to the hospital post-mission to take care of anything she’d been unable to heal herself. Sakura had taken it for granted that she’d always be the one wielding the it’s-for-your-own-goods and giving lectures on shinobi health basics straight from the Academy to people who should know better.

Why she was surprised that her teammates were overprotective, fretting busybodies about her health Sakura didn’t know. They were overprotective, fretting busybodies about her social life too.

Kakashi-sensei and Naruto had acted like scandalized virgins when she’d suggested that maybe she wanted to make out with boys because it was fun and that they could take their male posturing elsewhere since she was a big girl and wouldn’t let anyone get away with anything she didn’t want them to. Which was rich considering one of them was a well-known pervert and Konoha’s number one pervert had trained the other. Sasuke hadn’t said much, but his disapproval had been equally clear. Nobody was good enough for the close teammate of an Uchiha.

Nodding at Sasuke that she wasn’t going to argue further and that he should keep walking, Sakura changed the subject. “Where is the resistance’s main base?”

“Former Sound.”

“’ _ Former _ Sound?’” This time he kept walking when she stopped and Sakura was forced to follow him.

“As in… what happened to Orochimaru? I’m assuming he didn’t just clean up the guest bedrooms and put out the little hotel soap samples for visiting shinobi from his most hated former village.”

She’d barely finished speaking when her brain made the connection in a dizzying flash and she snagged Sasuke’s sleeve and dragged him to a halt.

“That’s what the secret ANBU mission was for. Your brother killed Orochimaru.”

“We were there too,” Sasuke said with a trace of annoyance.

“Orochimaru, really? That’s…wait, what? Weren’t you supposed to be at the Kage summit?”

“You remember that random shinobi who was assigned to go with us in your place?”

She nodded, not sure how his comment related to destroying one of the village’s greatest enemies.

“He was a Root spy sent by Danzou. Naruto made friends with him and he came over to our side.”

Sakura couldn’t help her automatic snort of disbelief. Trust Danzou to take advantage of her absence by placing an enemy on her team and forget that Naruto’s Instant Friendship Justu was deadly in close quarters.

“It’s a long story.”

“A Naruto specialty.”

Sasuke shook his head and turned in the direction of the cabin, the rest of the traps left for another day.

“Sai is not what one would call emotionally stable.”

“And since you’re the one telling me I know it must be true.”

He glared at her, but kept talking. “It was obvious from the start. You know how Naruto is.”

She laughed. “He can sniff out emotional instability almost as well as he can sniff out ramen. Better if he’s not hungry.”

“We weren’t even out of Fire when we realized Danzou was probably up to something. Kakashi was in favor of turning back when we ran into the Hachibi jinchuuriki.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “Killer B is the brother of the Raikage and, other than having an annoying tendency to rap whatever he says, is sane. Naruto made friends with him too.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Did Naruto induct him into his card-carrying Jinchuuriki Friendship Club?”

Sasuke’s lips twitched upwards. “You know he carries those cards around with him?”

“He  _ doesn’t _ ,” Sakura laughed. “Please don’t tell me he’s been handing them out to people.”

“He gave one to my brother, among others.”

She snorted and waved him on to continue, holding a hand over her mouth to muffle her amusement.

“Killer B asked us what Konoha’s ANBU was doing in Sound. We assumed Danzou was behind whatever it was, especially when we found Sai’s tongue had been sealed to prevent him spilling Root secrets. Kakashi, as Acting Hokage, ordered a small squad of our ANBU guard off to report to Konoha while the rest of us investigated the situation in Sound.

“Imagine our surprise when we discovered ANBU ransacking Orochimaru’s underground bunkers and laying siege to Sound’s main base.”

“How did that go?” Sakura asked, already knowing the answer.

“What do you think?” Sasuke raised an eyebrow and made a vicious smirk. “All the jutsu in the world couldn’t save Orochimaru when he was caught between us, my brother, ANBU and two jinchuuriki.”

“ _ Two _ jinchuuriki?”

“ _ I _ thought it was a bad idea. Apparently Killer B was under house arrest in Lightning due to the Akatsuki threat and slipped his guards. I didn’t want to incite an international incident by encouraging the escaped jinchuuriki of a village that doesn’t like us into danger, but I was overruled.”

Huffing, Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Naruto got us allied to Cloud somehow anyway.”

“Damn it, Sasuke!” Sakura threw up her hands in frustration and gave her teammate the evil eye. “So your ‘really lame and totally annoying’ political mission turns into participating in a massive secret ANBU mission where you kick Orochimaru’s ass. 

“Meanwhile, I’m off playing cat-and-mouse with hunter-nin and fighting for the money just to eat.” Sakura’s mouth snapped closed almost before she’d finished speaking, her ire forgotten.

Though she’d said the words in annoyance at learning she’d been left out of her idiot teammates’ antics yet again, it was too soon for her to bring up those memories, even jokingly. It was stupid to dwell on something that couldn’t be changed. It would be better for everyone if she could just forget about it and let it go.

Frowning at the creases that had appeared between Sasuke’s eyebrows, she tried to remember what she’d been talking about before her vocal slip.

“Do you know how sick of red meat I am?” Ranting about food in front of her mother hen teammate was probably a bad idea, but it carried the least painful sting of bad memories.

“Game is  _ not  _ what I’d call fine dining. I was ready to kill for some vegetables. Actually,” she mused thoughtfully, “I’m pretty sure I  _ did _ kill for some vegetables.”

Sasuke interrupted by grasping one of her wrists and giving her a light tug. “Sakura, shut up.”

He took the empty glass out of her hand and stacked it inside the one he was holding. Then he reclaimed her wrist and started pulling her in the direction of the cabin.

“It wasn’t fun without you around,” he practically growled, leading her between twisted roots and fallen branches with his eyes fixed on the ground. “And we’re going to eat lunch.”

“Wait a minute, you haven’t told me what happened after getting rid of Orochimaru.”

Very slowly, Sasuke stopped and turned his head towards her. “I will continue talking if you come with me and promise to eat whatever I place in front of you.”

Considering the bargain, Sakura looked her teammate straight in the eye. “I will eat everything  _ within reason _ as long as you let me help.”

“Deal,” he said, without pausing to consider her terms.

Sakura grinned in triumph. “You’ll let me help? Really?”

“It’s impossible to live with Itachi and  _ not _ learn how to cook. I’m just speeding up the process.”

Sakura hummed vaguely in reply, thinking suddenly about Sasuke’s newfound domestic skills. Uchiha Mikoto was reputedly one of the best cooks in the village. The rumors could be exaggerated due to the Uchiha pride in their matriarch, but Sakura didn’t think so, not when she’d had the honor of being invited to Sasuke’s for dinner. Mentally she recalculated what she knew of Itachi. Maybe the last twenty percent of his time was divided between training and cooking.

They walked in silence back to the cabin, Sasuke’s hand still lightly encircling her wrist. Though he’d promised to continue the story, he did not speak again until both of them had removed their shoes and moved to the kitchen.

“You can make rice, right?”

Placing one hand on her hip, Sakura cocked her head. “Sasuke, are you seriously asking me that? Even Kakashi-sensei can make rice without burning it.”

He gave her a dubious look but showed her where the rice was kept, telling her how many cups to make and pushing her in the direction of the battered metal rice cooker.

“A large portion of Sound’s forces were the dregs of Rice’s disbanded military. They weren’t very happy with becoming indentured servants to a madman who fed them to his experiments or used them as disposable fighters.” Sasuke began rummaging in the fridge, emerging in a moment with a small armful of vegetables; no doubt his worrywart tendencies wouldn’t let him ignore her earlier comment.

“They were more than willing to either stand aside or join us after Naruto promised to give them back control of their country once we were gone. You know Kakashi—he just stood aside and let the dobe work his magic.”

Sakura shook her head in mute disgust as she measured out cups of water into the appliance. Kakashi-sensei was  _ so _ lazy!

“We spent a few days rounding up the last of Orochimaru’s loyal followers and his escaped creations. You’ll be happy to know my brother personally disposed of Yakushi Kabuto.”

She accepted the news with a stiff nod. Medic-nin were the rarest breed of shinobi, even rarer than sensor types, who could be trained from practically anyone regardless of chakra control. In Konoha medic-nin were treated with an unusual degree of respect, a change from the other hidden villages that saw medic-nin only as second-rate shinobi who sacrificed battle prowess for a spot on the sidelines. To become a medic-nin in Konoha under the strict training protocols set in place by the Sannin Tsunade was to become the elite, those with the chakra control necessary to not only harm, but to heal as well.

That Kabuto had used Konoha’s medic-nin teachings to betray the village was a long-standing sore point among the medical staff at the hospital, civilian and shinobi alike. Given the opportunity, Sakura would have gladly wrapped her fingers around Kabuto’s neck and severed his arteries one by one, but she trusted Itachi to have done a thorough job in eliminating the traitor, and that was enough for her.

“Kakashi assigned some ANBU to stay with the remaining Rice shinobi to help them start rebuilding and we were preparing to actually leave for the Kage summit.” He started washing the vegetables, eyes on his hands. “If I hadn’t been there myself, I would have never believed it. Had we made it, Kakashi’s excuse for tardiness would have been real,  _ for once _ .

“Here,” Sasuke handed her a cutting board, an onion, and a knife, which she awkwardly struggled with before dropping all three on the countertop. “Chop the onion.”

“Uh.” She blinked at the unexpected segue, staring at the onion as if she’d never seen one before. “Do I need to…?” Hesitantly, she pantomimed plucking bits off the white bulb.

“No, I’ve already peeled it for you. All you need to do is chop it.”

“Is there a…method to this?”

“Hn.” Sasuke picked up the knife and placed it in her open hand. Closing her fingers around the handle he moved her wrist until the blade of the knife was suspended above the onion. “Medium-size pieces of a similar consistency. I’ll let you figure the rest out for yourself; you’re a smart kunoichi and I have faith in you.”

Growling, Sakura elbowed him in the side for his sass. Sasuke grunted low in his throat, but showed no other signs that she’d hit him. Raising the knife, Sakura gave the vegetable a suspicious look and considered various strategies for cutting it up evenly.

“The ANBU squad Kakashi sent to Konoha returned before we could depart, accompanied by a small contingent of shinobi who’d managed to flee the village during the coup. When we learned what had happened we knew Danzou would attempt to kill us and capture Naruto. Going to the Kage summit would have made us easy targets.”

Sasuke had pulled out another cutting board and begun chopping some of the vegetables he’d washed. Squinting at the neat pile of vegetable pieces before him, and then at her own mess of onion bits, Sakura scowled and returned to her task.

“Rice offered us a potential solution. While Danzou was aware of ANBU’s absence, he wasn’t a part of the council and wouldn’t have been privy to the order Homura and Koharu forced through while Tsunade was in a coma. Even if he interrogated them he had no way of knowing whether ANBU had succeeded or been slaughtered by Orochimaru. With most of Konoha’s ANBU missing and a significant portion of both the Uchiha and the Hyuuga gone, it would be suicide to pit Konoha against Orochimaru’s forces.”

Sakura stilled, glancing at Sasuke out of the corner of her eye at the casual mention of his murdered family. Though he continued methodically chopping the vegetables in front of him, the tension in the air made her skin break out in goose bumps. His bangs were covering his face and she couldn’t see his expression. Tentatively, Sakura reached for his shoulder and paused, her eyes on the slivers of onion clinging to her fingers.

The sound of the front door made them both jump. Sakura pulled her hand away and looked down at her pile of mangled onion. None of the pieces were the same size and they were all horribly misshapen.

“We’ve taken over Orochimaru’s main base as headquarters for the rebel forces.” Sasuke spoke as if he’d never stopped, picking up his explanation where he’d left off. “The Rice shinobi have let us stay because we’ve been helping them rebuild and train their forces.

“Those who aren’t at the base are scattered across Fire and in the bordering countries acting as contacts to gather information and smuggle goods and people right under Danzou’s nose. That’s how we got your parents out before Danzou tightened the watch on the remaining ANBU and closed Konoha to outsiders.”

Sasuke pushed the vegetables into neat piles with the side of the blade and put down his knife, turning to face Itachi as he walked into the living room.

“Hello, aniki, welcome back.”

“I’m back,” Itachi greeted, eyes flicking from her face to his brother’s blank expression. Sakura knew she looked worried and that Itachi could tell something was wrong. The air in the house felt heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.

Biting her lip for a second in indecision, Sakura was struck by an idea.

“Itachi.” The elder Uchiha inclined his head slightly in her direction. While he watched, Sakura raised a hand and poked Sasuke square in the forehead with her onion-sticky fingers. He recoiled in disbelief and stared at her, but she only turned and quirked an eyebrow at his brother.

She didn’t miss the surprised look that flashed across Itachi’s features before his eyes narrowed in calculation. Stepping quickly into the kitchen, he moved to stand in front of them. Then, watching her the whole time, he poked Sasuke in the forehead.

Reflexively, Sasuke covered his forehead with a hand, clearly worried about future assaults. “Sakura, don’t  _ encourage _ him.”

His petulant words banished the gloomy air in the kitchen and Sakura grinned, holding up a hand before she could stop herself. Itachi didn’t even hesitate before slapping her palm with his, and Sakura didn’t miss his amused smirk when she openly gaped at him. Apparently he  _ had _ been hanging out with Naruto.

Grumbling under his breath, Sasuke rubbed his abused forehead with one hand and frowned when it came away smelling of onions. “I’m going to regret putting you two together, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Itachi allowed, sliding past Sakura before she could recover and claiming a position at the stove.

Politely brushed away from her chopping duty, Sakura frowned when she realized both Uchiha were about to fall back into their long-established routine, the one where they cooked for her while she sat on her butt doing nothing.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at their backs. “Sasuke, you said you’d let me help.”

The brothers turned towards her, and though she’d addressed Sasuke it was Itachi who spoke.

“Did he?”

She nodded once and resettled her weight until her feet were planted firmly against the kitchen floor, body at ease but ready to shift into motion.

“How did the spar go?” He was watching her, but from the way his eyes flickered towards Sasuke she knew he wouldn’t accept her response without his brother’s corroboration.

“I kicked his ass,” she huffed, raising one eyebrow challengingly.

In response, Itachi’s eyes darted towards Sasuke, who looked away and muttered a quiet “Hn.” Matter resolved to his satisfaction, Itachi glanced at her and the corners of his lips turned up.

“Is that so?”

She smirked, deciding to press her advantage. “He said there was no way I could be around you and  _ not _ learn how to cook.”

“It is a valuable talent to have,” Itachi agreed, oblivious to the small insult.

“Not for shinobi,” Sasuke rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why I have to—“

“If you want to eat, you have to help,” Itachi interrupted pleasantly. “Being able to cook with any ingredients on hand provides extreme versatility whether in the field or undercover. No brother of mine will ever go hungry.”

Sakura hid her smile with a little cough into her hand. When she looked up Sasuke was frowning at her and she grinned unrepentantly.

“Cheer up, Sasuke. Misery loves company.”

Stepping forward, she sidled past her teammate, jostling him away from the kitchen countertop with her body. Just because she could, she gave him a strong clap on the shoulder, smiling happily when he started brushing ineffectively at the onion residue.

“So, Itachi-sensei, what will we be cooking today?”

Itachi had watched her tease his brother with a very faint smile. One side of his mouth pulled higher at her words as he watched Sasuke picking onions off his shirtsleeve.

“Considering the ingredients Sasuke has laid out, I assume he intended to make a vegetable stir-fry.”

Sasuke gave a small nod, still wrinkling his nose over his task. He mumbled something that sounded like “deficient,” though whether he was commenting on her dietary or mental lack was unclear.

The kitchen was too small for Sakura to move far, but she tried not to hover directly at Itachi’s side and get in his way as he removed a large wok and set it on the stove. Next he poured in some cooking oil and turned up the heat, before removing a pair of long-handled cooking chopsticks from a drawer.

At his request Sakura began passing him vegetables, observing his movements with interest as he added them to the mix. The whole time Itachi narrated his actions in a quiet voice, explaining what he was doing, why, and how the steps might change based on the ingredients used.

Sakura had never been particularly interested in cooking in the past, unwilling to fall into the stereotypical role of the female cooking for the males on team missions. But there was something about the fluidity of Itachi’s movements that fascinated her, and she couldn’t help the way her eyes followed the steady motion of his hands. While she’d very rarely seen him in battle, his skill was well known and she could see that grace in his manipulation of the cooking utensils.

In her preoccupation she didn’t notice anything was wrong at first. Itachi was stirring the ingredients constantly, but didn’t switch the chopsticks into his left hand. The one time he tried he’d barely lowered them into the wok before pulling away as if he’d changed his mind and needed a short break. But Sakura had seen him flinch the moment his fingers closed on the wood, almost dropping the chopsticks before tightening his hold as if nothing had happened.

Eyes narrowed, she forgot about watching his hands in appreciation and instead started looking for weakness with the trained eye of a shinobi and medic-nin.

It wasn’t her imagination: Compared to his right hand, which he moved without hesitation, his left stayed locked awkwardly at his side. He held the handle of the wok loosely with his left hand, the unnatural straightness of his arm restricting the rotation of his wrist into a more comfortable position.

“Is something wrong with your arm?”

When Itachi’s eyes met hers she stared at him, waiting for him to acknowledge what she already knew.

“No, nothing,” he said, turning his gaze back to his cooking with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Sakura’s heart leapt into her throat. He was much better at it, but the casual answer followed by brief bemusement—as if he wasn’t sure why she was asking in the first place—was a classic Sasuke response to being injured. If she hadn’t spent years around his younger brother who routinely played off any wound that wasn’t broken, falling off, or bleeding too much to hide she might have never noticed the signs.

It was probably a minor wound, hence his unwillingness to even mention it, but she couldn’t be sure unless she checked. Stubborn Uchiha pride had led Sasuke to ignore concussions and extreme muscle tears before.

Quietly, Sakura moved around Itachi’s back to his other side, turning the stove off before wrapping one hand around his forearm. Her chakra slid into his skin easily and she sighed at the familiarity of living cells beneath her fingers.

Eyes slipping closed as she brushed delicately at the inner workings of Itachi’s arm, Sakura started at the elbow and worked her way towards his hand. There were tears in the ligaments of his wrist, just as she’d suspected, and she began pushing her chakra into the affected area.

After encouraging the fibers to re-knit and repairing the ruptured blood vessels she couldn’t resist letting her chakra continue homing in on any other anomalies. Small mostly-healed cuts faded and she poked carefully at old scars, untangling damaged nerve cells from within the built-up tissue.

When she awoke from her daze she found herself possessively running her hand over Itachi’s arm while he stared at her, eyes dark and unreadable. Blushing, Sakura snatched her hand back and frowned at him, not about to forget how he’d lied to her earlier just because she’d been feeling up his arm.

“Stupid, what did you think you were doing? It was totally unnecessary to exacerbate it like that just so you could cook lunch. Why didn’t you ask me to look at it? Why did you  _ lie _ to me about it?”

“I apologize, I didn’t wish to disturb your recovery—“

She cut him off with toss of her hand. “Bullshit. Even if that’s true, you  _ still _ shouldn’t have been cooking. It was only a minor sprain, but it wasn’t going to heal with you moving it like that! One of ANBU’s most celebrated captains should know better than to aggravate pre-existing injuries for no reason.”

“Sakura.” She bit back the rest of her rant and cocked one hand on her hip impatiently.

“Thank you.”

His voice was calm, even, and completely sincere. Sakura felt her righteous indignation evaporate in the face of how reasonable he was being.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Rather than face him, Sakura bit her lip and glanced away. Sasuke was standing behind the countertop that separated the kitchen area from the living room, watching her. She gave him a pointed look, but he didn’t respond.

Sighing, Sakura turned her head in Itachi’s direction. “I’m sorry for, uh, manhandling you and giving you the third degree. But you have to admit it’s stupid for you to neglect your health, even something minor like this, when we’re technically at war and in enemy territory.

“And even if we weren’t, your body’s going to break down if you let all the little aches and pains go without being treated. Physical fatigue will decrease your responsiveness and mobility in battle and then one day—“

Sakura stopped and pressed her lips together, aware that she was lecturing someone who knew better and didn’t need a refresher course in Health Basics 101.

“Anyway,” she continued, “the diagnostic scan is the first technique any medic learns and it takes very little chakra. Even without enough chakra to heal, a medic would still be able to determine the severity of the wound and advise the necessary field treatment.”

“I will be more conscious of it in the future,” Itachi said. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worried—“ she began, but couldn’t complete her sentence. “It’s just… been a long time since I’ve healed anyone,” she finished weakly.

“Sakura, what’s wrong?”

She was going to tell Sasuke that nothing was wrong. She was going to meet his eyes, tell him she was fine, and go sit on the couch to put a little distance between herself and the two Uchiha.

Except when she raised her eyes and caught sight of his face she couldn’t do it.

If she wanted to Sakura could brush Kakashi aside with vague assurances pretending not to see his concern, and he would let it go because he’d never press, too used to avoiding prying questions to ever ask them of others. Sakura had learned not to give Naruto the chance to question her, taking advantage of his easily distracted personality and his tendency to accept people at face value.

But Sasuke knew her weakness. He’d follow her around, shadowing her footsteps without saying a word. The space between them would swell with all the things she didn’t want to say, but couldn’t forget with him nearby to remind her until she was ready to spill everything just so he’d  _ stop _ .

And now both he and Itachi were looking at her with those curst eyes, frank and unapologetic in their desire to know what was bothering her.

She could make an excuse now, if she really wanted to, and they would let her go. They would wait for her as long as she chose to keep the secret to herself.

Pursing her lips, Sakura brusquely moved past both Uchiha and took her customary spot on the couch, turning her head so she didn’t have to see them watching her out of the corner of her eye.

Sulking by herself was never worth it in the face of Sasuke’s unwavering patience. Rejecting his desire to be there for her even when she didn’t want him would be akin to breaking their friendship, something Sakura would never do and Sasuke knew it, damn him.

“That’s how they kept finding me in the beginning. Healing,” she clarified, feeling their interest sharpening at her words. “I dyed my hair and hid my eyes, made myself blend in, and dropped the flashiest moves from Tsunade-shishou’s style. It wasn’t my looks and it wasn’t my chakra. After that first week I barely had any, what was there to sense?

She folded her hands in her lap and stared without really seeing them.

“It was my own fault. I—every shinobi knows what life as a nukenin is like. We hunt enough of them for our villages to see what they have to do, what they become, to survive. I didn’t want that.

“Medical care outside the capitals and the hidden villages is deplorable. I could have settled in any small village as a traveling doctor in exchange for food and a roof over my head, and I did, or at least I tried. But every time I picked a place to hide Root found me.”

Gripping her clasped hands so tightly they hurt she finally chanced a look towards her silent audience. Sasuke’s brow was drawn in a deep frown, the skin between his eyebrows puckered in anger. Itachi’s expression was blank, but Sakura could sense the intensity that gathered beneath his stoic appearance.

“Danzou took my village, my way of life as a shinobi, and my pride as a medic. Those squads weren’t hunting a kunoichi—they were hunting a female healer, as if my desire to help others was nothing more than a vulnerability to be used to capture me.

“The worst part is that Danzou got what he wanted. He couldn’t have me for his twisted schemes so he crippled my effectiveness as a medic instead.”

“What are you talking about?” Sasuke took a step in her direction. “You just healed Itachi’s arm.”

“Yes,” Itachi confirmed, rotating his healed left wrist. “It feels better than it has in a long time.” He paused before adding, “I haven’t always visited the medics to follow up on my injuries like I should have.”

Sakura frowned at Itachi’s admission but decided it was an issue for another time.

“I can heal now, when I’ve almost recovered my chakra and we’re not under attack. But what happens when we’re in the field and one of you gets seriously injured?”

Neither said anything. She could see the questions building up behind Sasuke’s eyes, his mouth hovering over a demand for more information. Itachi was unreadable; if he understood what she was trying to explain he kept his thoughts to himself.

“What is a medic’s primary function?”

When Sasuke said nothing, she glared at him and repeated her question.

“To heal.”

“And who is the medic supposed to heal?”

Sasuke’s mouth twisted into a scowl, resenting her confrontational tone and what he felt were insipid questions, but Sakura had to make him  _ see _ .

“The team, Sakura. The medic is supposed to heal her team.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” she growled, “but how am I supposed to heal my team when I’m too busy healing myself?”

Gesturing angrily towards her forehead, Sakura rose and faced the brothers.

“Sakura,” he hesitated, irritation blending into concern. “What are you talking about? You’re the Godaime’s apprentice, since when has not being able to heal everybody been a concern? With your chakra control you always have enough left over to heal the rest of us, even when we’re falling over from chakra exhaustion.”

“I can’t—can’t control it anymore,” she said, feeling her simmering anger shudder and die at the confession.

It was a surprise to find she  _ could _ be angry. Her temper had never been particularly stable, but she had thought she’d buried the banked rage at what Danzou’s agents had done to her. Apparently she’d only needed a proper catalyst to unleash it.

She’d wanted to keep her issues hidden for just a little longer, be the normal pre-Danzou Sakura, but in a household full of overly perceptive Uchiha it had been a lost cause from the start. In front of the prodigy and, most of all, the boy who’d known her since she was twelve, Sakura had wanted to appear stronger after what she’d had to endure, not the “damaged good” she’d told Sasuke she wasn’t.

Sakura turned and bent to retrieve the shirt from where she’d dropped it the previous night. When she held it up she made sure the front with its dark stain bisected by uneven stitches was clearly visible. Laying it across the couch cushions, she lifted the hem of her own shirt just enough that they could see the smooth, even skin of her stomach, no evidence of the wound that had bled enough to permanently mar the old shirt.

It was an injury that should have scarred, and in a battlefield scenario precious chakra couldn’t be spared for cosmetic fixes unless the scar tissue was likely to inhibit bodily movement or function. Except that she’d woken the next day, head aching from strain, to find her stomach unblemished under the crust of dried blood.

Swallowing, Sakura tapped a finger against her forehead, again drawing attention to where she’d been cut the night they’d found her.

“As long as I have chakra my body will heal itself. I can’t stop it or control what happens, not anymore.”

How could she be a medic when her body rebelled against her, selfishly prioritizing her own health over the health of the ones she was supposed to care for, those who didn’t have the training or the chakra control to heal themselves? Sakura stared at her feet feeling sick.

There was a light touch against her brow. She looked up expecting to see Sasuke and was startled to find Itachi instead.

Towards his younger brother a touch to the forehead turned into a sign of teasing affection. Against her skin his touch felt like a caress. Sakura couldn’t help the small shiver that ran down her spine.

“You of all people,” she whispered, staring into his dark eyes, “know how circumstances like that can condition a person.”

He’d become a genin at age seven, chuunin at ten and ANBU Captain at thirteen. If anyone knew what it was like to be unprepared emotionally for the stress and trauma of shinobi life, it was him. She knew only Kakashi who’d advanced at a younger age, and in wartime too, but her sensei wasn’t the one available to comfort her. 

“That does not make it your fault,” he said, hand falling back to his side, though the spark of warmth from his touch seemed to linger.

“You seem to think Danzou has ruined you somehow—made you less of a shinobi and less of a person. But that isn’t true.”

“I’m a  _ medic _ ,” Sakura protested. “I’m not  _ just _ a shinobi. Healing is part of who I am. How can I be complete when that part of me is missing?”

“Not missing.” One side of his mouth quirked humorlessly. “Like your chakra, your control will return. It’s probable that during your experiences you traded conscious control over your healing in favor of survival. It will come back to you.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to ask him how he  _ knew _ , how he could sound so damned confident, but Itachi spoke again before she could open her mouth.

“This is the proof.” He held up his left arm and rotated his wrist. “You haven’t lost the capacity to heal. It may take more time to retrain your instincts to consciously control your medical chakra, but your healing ability remains.”

He paused, eyes searching her face.

“Sakura, you are not the only one who needed to be reconditioned after a long mission in enemy territory. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

For a second Itachi hesitated as if he might say something else, but he glanced at his brother and decided against it, heading towards the kitchen. Sasuke moved into the space he’d vacated, arms crossed over his chest.

“Have you been worrying about that this whole time?”

“Not…the whole time,” she winced at his scowl. “It was a legitimate concern for me to worry about.”

“Need I remind the team medic you’re supposed to be  _ recovering _ ? How are you supposed to rest when you’re stressing yourself out?”

“How am I supposed to be the team medic when I can’t heal?”

“We’ve covered this,” Sasuke nodded at his brother’s back. “You can still heal. You have to work on your chakra control, but considering it’s  _ you _ I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either. You can get through this.”

When she continued to frown he reached over and flicked her on the nose, making her go cross-eyed.

“Sakura, why do you think Naruto and I gave you five months? You don’t have to be ready to save the world just yet.”

“There won’t  _ be _ a world left to save after Naruto gets done with it.”

“Let the dobe do his thing. You’re mortal, just like the rest of us.”

Itachi was in the kitchen doing something with the food and pretending that he couldn’t hear everything they said. Looking pointedly at his back and then at her teammate she raised an eyebrow.

“Mere ‘mortals,’ huh?”

Sasuke snorted. “Careful, Sakura, your Team Seven Kami Complex is showing.”

“Well if I’m bad at taking care of myself it’s only because I learned from the best,” she replied.

Apparently satisfied she’d moved from depression into witty repartee, Sasuke shook his head and walked into the kitchen.

“Sit down, Sakura. Eat some lunch, and I’ll let you beat me up so you can practice your healing.”

“Oh, Sasuke-kun, you know I can’t resist your body.” She grinned at him until he leaned over and asked Itachi to give her extra to make up for ‘energy expenditure.’

When the eldest Uchiha offered her a heaping plate she frowned at him.

“You need to recover your strength,” he said, unfazed by her displeasure. “This is the food you helped to prepare, Sakura, you should take pride in it.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she said, accepting the plate.

“If you’re worried I have other wounds I’ve neglected to inform you of I would be glad to submit to a medical check-up after lunch. I’m sure Sasuke will cooperate as well.”

“Fine,” her teammate grumbled, emerging from the kitchen with two glasses of water, which he left at the foot of the couch within easy reach. “Sakura, you promised to eat.”

“I promised to eat  _ within reason _ .” She poked dubiously at the small mountain of stir-fry and rice on her plate. “And don’t try to distract me with medical stuff!”

Itachi appeared at that moment with two more plates, and Sakura was surprised to see that each held almost as much food as her own. Sasuke didn’t say anything, but the dubious look he gave his brother spoke volumes.

“This amount of food is perfectly reasonable,” Itachi said. “You’re recovering on top of healing me and sparring with Sasuke this morning. Sasuke tends to neglect his own health when looking after others. And I need to replenish the energy that was used up by my body in the healing process.”

Itachi ignored Sasuke’s glare with serene indifference and began eating. Likely knowing that grumbling to his aniki was futile, Sasuke started eating as well. Sakura glanced between the two of them and smiled, hastily shoving food into her mouth when Sasuke glanced in her direction with narrowed eyes.

It was good—of course it was another joint culinary creation by the Uchiha brothers. Sakura didn’t consider mutilating onions to have been a worthwhile contribution, but she still enjoyed the food. And she couldn’t deny that eating heaps of lightly fried and crispy vegetables satisfied her non-meat cravings.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and concentrated on their food. Sakura was amused to see Sasuke finish off his plate without a word of protest.

A few minutes later as she was trying to push the remaining grains of rice into a bigger clump before she ate the last broccoli floret, Sakura realized the brothers were done eating and exchanging silent looks.

For a clan that was obsessed with eyes it made sense that the Uchiha could communicate entirely through telepathic stares. That didn’t mean Sakura appreciated being left out of their nonverbal conversation. Shoving the rest of her food in her mouth, Sakura tried to convey with  _ her _ stare that they’d better tell her what was going on if they knew what was good for them.

Sasuke looked doubtful. Itachi widened his eyes slightly in reply. Sasuke’s eyebrows creased and Itachi inclined his head the tiniest fraction. A beat, and Sasuke snorted, collecting their empty plates to take to the kitchen. Itachi turned to regard her as if nothing had just happened.

“There will be an ANBU Root patrol passing two hours’ south of here in a week. We may be able to rendezvous and intercept one of our targets at that time.”

Sasuke returned to his seat next to her on the couch and elaborated.

“We catch the Root patrols that pass near us and free the loyal ANBU members after eliminating the rest of the squad. Teams like ours are chipping away at Danzou’s forces until he has no choice but to stay within the village walls or risk exposing Konoha to outside invasion with his shinobi spread too far away to help.”

“You said Naruto had turned one of them,” Sakura pointed out. “Would it be possible to convert the Root agents and send them back to Danzou, but reporting to us?”

“The resistance doesn’t have the resources to hold and guard that many prisoners for the length of time it would take to de-condition them and Danzou will not trust any non-Root ANBU who return without the rest of their squad.

“We tried once.” Sasuke’s jaw clenched. “He left the body where we would find it.”

“The Root members themselves are immune to outside influence due to the nature of the seals placed upon them,” Itachi added. “Danzou has effectively made it impossible to create sleeper agents out of his own soldiers.”

“But then how did Naruto…?”

“We haven’t figured out exactly how Sai’s seal works, but distance seems to affect the level of control exerted by it. He’s restricted to the base as a precaution, especially because prolonged exposure to Naruto seems to erode his conditioning.

“Unfortunately,” Sasuke’s voice was dry, “it’s not possible to just have the dobe lead his own Root therapy sessions. We don’t know what additional conditioning Danzou has introduced since taking over the village and we can’t risk bringing them into any of the resistance’s bases.”

Sakura thought about his words and frowned. It had been a relief to find out that the people she’d killed weren’t loyal Konoha shinobi, but Danzou’s mindless dogs. At the time she’d rationalized their deaths to avoid the cloying sense of betrayal to her village, knowing she couldn’t merely incapacitate her opponents if she wanted to stay alive. But the luxury of safety allowed her to examine the situation from a different angle.

In a way, Danzou’s Root members were his first victims. Conditioning of that magnitude took years to program effectively. The development of a seal complex enough to control speech and other mental functions would also have taken years. Danzou had been planning his coup for decades, building up his military force and waiting for the opportune time to strike.

Root was only the scapegoat, enslaved to fight to the death for a cause they didn’t support. Naruto had saved one of them, but what of the others?

Itachi must have read something of her thoughts on her face.

“There’s never a perfect answer during wartime. Miracles, like the one that occurred after Pein’s attack, don’t happen.“

Itachi had witnessed the end of the Third Great Shinobi War and the Kyuubi’s attack on Konoha. He would’ve been very young, but for a genius that didn’t mean much, especially for one with Sharingan-granted photographic memory. Sakura had the clearance to access his medical records and it didn’t take a great leap of logic to realize his awakening of the Sharingan at four was prompted by something other than prodigious talent.

She wanted to argue with him, but she wasn’t Naruto. Sakura didn’t have the blind certainty that things would always turn out for the best.

“Who’s our target this time?” Sasuke asked into the sudden quiet.

“I don’t know yet. Our contact was compromised.”

“Compromised?” Sasuke glanced sharply at his brother.

“Followed,” Itachi clarified. “I dispatched the assailant, but I thought it expedient to send our contact on to a safe house in case his identity had been exposed. His replacement should be here in the next few days with the details.”

“Is that how you were injured?” 

Frowning, Itachi rotated his healed left wrist. “I didn’t expect our contact to engage with the enemy and I miscalculated the angle when blocking a strike meant for him.”

The words were directed at her, Sakura realized. Incensed and not about to let him distract her again, she scowled with the righteous indignation of a pissed-off med-nin.

“Uchiha Itachi, you will tell me right now if you’re wounded anywhere else.”

“I am not.” He had the gall to look and sound amused. Her teammate, who was in for it the next time they sparred, snorted.

“You,” she pointed one finger at Sasuke, “stay. You,” she jabbed her finger in the direction of his obnoxious older brother and moved to pat the couch cushion beside her, anger morphing into an expression of calculated sweetness.

Itachi sat down next to her, undaunted by her aura of murderous intent. Sakura smacked a palm against his chest and stared determinedly at his collarbone as she concentrated on the feel of her chakra moving gently through his body. Other than a few sparring-created bruises, everything was fine. Sakura checked over both of his eyes, asking him to activate the Sharingan while she measured his chakra usage.

“Alright,” she finally grumbled, wishing she could scold him for neglecting  _ something _ , “you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, Haruno-sensei.” Ignoring the quirk to his lips, she glowered at her next patient.

Eloquently, Sasuke rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut as he took Itachi’s place on the couch. There was nothing wrong with him either, other than a bit of eczema on his back that Sakura helpfully cleared up for him. After a cursory eye exam she sat back with a huff.

“You’re fine too.” She fixed them both with a significant look. “For once.”

Sasuke shrugged. “You’re not the only one on vacation.”

“Meaning Shizune reminded Naruto of the frequent chakra exhaustion and willful disregard for injury.”

“There are enough shinobi at base camp that our presence was not required,” Itachi said smoothly.

Sakura gave him a look of arch skepticism and started rummaging for her hidden stash of pocky.

“Sasuke, when you go to meet the new contact it would be a good opportunity to take Sakura into town.”

Sasuke was already nodding when she whipped her head around to stare at him. Reading her expression correctly, he snorted.

“Relax, Sakura, I’ll take you. It’s nothing to be excited about.”

As a nukenin Sakura had generally avoided the smaller towns and villages. They weren’t big enough to hide in and hunter-nin liked to stop by too frequently for them to provide any measure of safety or comfort. Despite what her teammate said she  _ was _ excited, if only to visit a town without the worry of being caught. It felt almost normal, like they were making plans to do something together back in Konoha.

“Oh, Sasuke-kun, maybe I’m just excited for our date.” She batted her eyelashes at him, playing up her pout for dramatic effect.

Sasuke’s eyebrows twitched at the word “date” and he frowned darkly. “Keep it up and I’m not going to take you.”

“That,” she declared, “would be cruel and unusual punishment, Sasuke-kun. You can’t promise a girl something and then not deliver.”

In response he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” She smiled when Sasuke narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her nonchalance. “If you won’t take me I’ll just have to appeal to your brother.”

Previously ignored during their banter, Itachi was watching them with an amused tilt to his mouth.

“I’m afraid I can’t take you. We visit the market on specific days to avoid our appearances being linked. Sasuke having gone yesterday has already changed the routine. I can’t alter my schedule.”

Sasuke smirked. “So you’ll have to be nice to me, Sakura.”

“Not likely!”

In a fit of immaturity she stuck her tongue out before realizing she’d done so in full view of his genius elder brother.

When she glanced at Itachi she could see the laughter in his eyes. Despite almost two days of treating him just like any other friend, Sakura was suddenly reminded that to her Uchiha Itachi was practically a stranger. He was one of the village’s most talented shinobi, and he’d witnessed her emotional breakdowns.

Feeling strangely flustered, Sakura quickly looked away.

“Sasuke, you never finished showing me the rest of the traps.”

Used to her whims, Sasuke’s brow creased but he didn’t ask her what was wrong when she grabbed his arm and began towing him out of the room.  
  
Sakura could only hope her face wasn’t as red as it felt.


End file.
